Within these Walls
by Karkat Captor
Summary: In a steampunk future, the boys act as delivery boys towards their mafia-esque families, hoping and begging for a revolution. Stenny, Kyman, Wetters. No longer accepting OCs.
1. Chin Music for the Unsuspecting Hero

**Within These Walls**

**Summary: ** In a steampunk future, the boys act as delivery boys towards their mafia-esque families, hoping and begging for a revolution. Stenny, Kyman, Wetters. Accepting OCs!

**Author's Note: ** Well, here we go, on a big adventure. This and Night Lights are going to be my two big projects – this one focusing on more of the OCs, and Night Lights being a canon-only affair. So, as I stated, please toss in your OCs. Read the chapter first, but after you're done, feel free to fill this out.

First Name:

Last Name: (Please put the family name – as in the mafia-esque family in (). State their real name outside of the (). )

Age: (5-19 for normal deliverers and postmortem men. 1-99 for special deliverers. But PLEASE WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER 2 FOR SUBMITTING SPECIAL DELIVERERS.)

Gender:

Appearance: (LONG AND DETAILED, PLEASE)

Allegiance: (Are you a normal citizen aligned with the government? Are you a supporter of the deliverers and their families, but not one yourself? If you're a deliverer, what family do you work for? If you're a postmortem man, same?)

Occupation: (Please state a daytime job – something reasonable and steampunk-ish, along with them either being a postmortem man or a deliverer. If your character is a special deliverer, such as Lilac, please at least wait until Chapter 2 to submit them – Lilac makes her appearance there and we learn about the special deliverers then. If your character is a postmortem man or a deliverer, feel free to submit them now. If your character is a normal citizen, only put a daytime job.)

Alliances: (If you're part of a family, do you have any alliances out of the family's preferences? If you're a postmortem man, do you have a relationship with any of your targets? Please be detailed.)

Rivalries: (If you're part of a family, do you truly hate anyone besides those that your family distastes?

Code Name: (Please see the bit on code names in the chapter. Note that they must follow the rules.)

Life Story/History: (Please be DETAILED! I want the most important events.)

Personality: (DETAILS, DETAILS, DETAILS)

Love Interest: (Please note that Kyle, Cartman, Stan, Kenny, Wendy, and Butters are taken. Everyone else is fair game for your OCs to give a shot at. Note that you can also say 'anyone' or 'no one'.)

Weapon of Choice: (Nothing too strange, please. And if you choose 'a gun', please be specific. 'A gun' won't help me, state some sort of brand, a style.)

More rules being that **there can only be five deliverers for each family. This includes canon characters. **So, if you wish to be part of the Broflovskis, Ike and Kyle would both have already taken spots – there'd be only three spots left for OCs. **There can only be three postmortem men per family as well. ** This would be the 'leader', the 'commander', and the 'private'. Typically, when a mission is failed, one is killed, so if you get lucky and I decide to kill off someone from a family early, feel free to step up to replace them. **There can only be one special deliverer per family. **Please wait for Chapter 2 to see. **I will only be accepting OCs up to Chapter 10. When we reach that point (that should be a third of the way done, by my estimate), I will not accept any more OCs. Please remember this. **

Now, please enjoy the first chapter of 'Within These Walls'!

**Chapter 1: Chin Music for the Unsuspecting Hero**

The boy ran down an alley, glancing every-so-often behind him, terrified out of his mind. In his arms sat a box, a small box, a music box.

It was the only thing that mattered to him anymore.

He ran quickly, his breath escaping in small hisses as he passed, running towards the trading district. He glanced behind him, terrified out of his mind.

Of course, he had good reason for this behavior.

Finally, he reached the trading district, and finally, his father's shop. Running in, he placed the box on the counter, smiling pleasantly. The only thing he had hoped for, all this time was his parents' approval. All his life, he'd believe that one day he'd escape that feeling.

That feeling of being dad and mom's little disappointment.

That was why he'd become a delivery boy. That's why he'd run out every morning, with his little music box, receiving oh-so-precious but oh-so-rare (not to mention illegal) materials within the confines of it, and running back to his father's store before he was killed. They all knew that all 'delivery boys' were targets for any sort of family in the area. That was why it was remarkable for any boy to volunteer to be one, or any girl, for that matter. The deliverers never cared about their lives. They only cared about getting their materials and returning them to their families, while keeping away from hired guns or other deliverers who'd be apt to take the materials.

Sometimes, deliverers were even modified to have parts implanted into them from discarded robots. These were known as special deliverers, and for the most part, they were outlawed, and all officers, if they note anything out of the ordinary with a child, are suggested, no, ordered to shoot on site. With the incompetent law enforcement that District 876 employed, this lead to many accidental deaths – but there was always an excuse to cover it up.

Just as there was an excuse for all of the families to still get away with this business.

The Stotches were one of these families. Leopold 'Butters' Stotch was their delivery boy –notably, their WILLING delivery boy. He took pride in his job, although he was new to it, and the sheer fact that he'd lost his materials to others at different time periods – and there was always the threat that a hired gun (or as they like to be called, postmortem men) that could take him out. Notably, Little Red – the only name she was known by – the infamous assassin for the most prominent family in the area (being that their delivery boy was notable for always getting the job done), the Marshes, seemed to be particularly dangerous.

That was another thing about the postmortem men – they went by fairytale names, just as the delivery boys went by nursery rhyme names. Butters' happened to be Little Boy Blue, and that was the only thing other delivery boys knew him by – unless they had established alliances, such as the Marshes and Broflovskis had ties - just as everyone seemed to not give any shits about the Stotches, considering Butters, so they had no real reason to hide their identities. He'd known since he started school that Kyle happened to be Little Jack Horner and that Stan was the infamously dangerous Jack A. Nory. It was an unstated truth that if Little Boy Blue, Little Jack Horner, Jack A. Nory, Peter Piper (that being Kenny) , and Doctor Foster (that being, of course, Cartman) were to ever meet during routes, they would pretend to fight, however, they would not kill each other, nor would they steal the others' materials. Only, if truly ordered to, they would truly fight.

This agreement, of course, did not hold true for Little Jack Horner and Doctor Foster, although this was strictly towards each other – and otherwise, this agreement seemed to stay firmly in place, with encounters only leading to a few scratches to prove that they had found each boy – and if their families were to ever get on bad terms, the child would not be so lucky.

Butters had about five of these scars already.

His father took the package and nodded. Butters sighed, slumping down onto the floor, smiling weakly. Another job done. He could only hope that his parents would be proud of him for getting the materials this time. It was more or less something he hoped and dreamed for, but with their wreckless emotions and their equally as wrecked marriage, it was almost a hopeless dream. Thinking about this almost made him cry every time, but he sucked it up. Delivery boys don't cry. At least, he guessed so.

If they did, he'd let his tears fall without abandon. But he couldn't. He had to be strong for those who couldn't be - those who'd died in his same line of work.

Although those deep thoughts only came from Butters on a rare occasion, he blinked, sitting up straight, as a small albino girl walked into the shop. She looked somewhat dazed, but smiled, staring straight into Butters' eyes.

"My name is Iris." She stated. "Is this the Stotch residence?"

"Yes." Butters nodded, getting up. "This is Stotch's Weaponry. What may I do for you?"

"My name is Iris Valmer, otherwise known as Lucy Lockett. I am here to offer my services to the Stotch family, as somewhat of a truce between the Stotch family and the Valmer family. I am a special deliverer, you see." She smiled sweetly as the key – the awkward, jilting, out-of-place key in her back that reminded you that, no, she was soulless, she was one of them, an abomination against the lord, a combination of child and machine, a special deliverer. "I will work to help both the Stotches and the Valmers collect materials, and make sure that both sides are satisfied with deliveries. However, if I turn up dead, the Valmer family will instantly attack the Stotch residence. If I come home empty-handed, but alive, I will be rewarded by Master Valmer and I will be able to go on with my deliveries as usual, however, you will get no benefit. Please, make a decision quickly."

"U-Um….um….mom, dad!" Butters yelped, unsure what to do with this girl. Iris smiled, cracking her knuckles absent-mindedly, still with that overly interested, possessed, bizarre grin and that wind-up key in her back turning and turning as a sign of life in that soulless body that filled itself with mechanics of all sorts. Stephen Stotch, Butters' father, left his workshop room, and walked towards the counter, noticing the situation. He began to discuss matters with the small girl, and she spoke with the wording and manner of a dignified adult, with only a British accent undertone hinting that she, once, had origins in some place, had been a child once before she became a terrifying creature of gears and wires that she was now. Iris looked down at Butters, being about an inch taller than him, and smiled.

"Your father has said that we will be working together from now on. I do so await our first joint delivery, and I will go tell Master Valmer that our alliance has been established. Thank you, Master Stotch, and I will see you later, Little Boy Blue." Iris ran off, her legs running faster than any human could dream of running, and her eyes turning a faint shade of red as she did. Butters glanced up at his father, who got down on his level.

"Now, Butters, you'll be working with Iris now. Do not tell her anything _unnecessary._" Stephen stressed the word unnecessary in an unusual way. "Do not tell her our private business; only cooperate with her if necessary, or if I or your mother tell you so. Got it?"

"Y-Yes sir." Butters nodded quickly, somewhat terrified by both the mechanical girl and his own father, who grounded him on a daily basis when in an agitated mood.

"Good boy." Stephen patted him on the head, and walked off. Butters sighed, breath escaping from his lips and floating out as if to take all his worries away with it. He could only wish.

He could only wish, and wait, and deliver as each day passed by.

The point being, the Valmers were infamous for passing around alliances like candy. Iris was most likely working for, as well as the Stotches, the Marshes (but who wasn't), the Blacks, the Broflovskis, the Cartmans, and many many others that Jimmy'd established to save his own skin, just as he kept good relationships with the deliverers at school as to establish this as well. He was 'trustworthy', and that was exactly why he WASN'T trustworthy. He was TOO honest, TOO off, TOO strange. It seemed to always work the opposite way in the world of deliverers. Cartman was trusted as he was rotten to the core and cowardly – if he made an alliance, he promised no backup, but it was honest if there was no option to reject it outright – and if it was presented at all, it was a good sign. Butters was the lowest pedal, leading to only beginner alliances – ones presented to insure that in the future, if there was potential, there'd be more presents in the future if the alliances weren't ruined.

Naturally, of course, alliances were the easiest thing in the world to ruin, and there were many who knew this more than others – the Crabtrees, the Mephestos, the Barbradys – that one being particularly gruesome considering how the Barbradys had played both sides of the allegiance, being orchestrated by the Tuckers, and rumor had it that his daughter – a mentally-challenged overweight little girl of only 12 had been turned into a special deliverer FOR the Tuckers, and had her memories changed entirely, just as the same had happened to the mad scientist daughter of Mephesto – Antoinette – being turned into a special deliverer for the Tweaks. Neither of them were to know, and neither of them ended up knowing as of yet.

Butters had been lucky that his family hadn't hired any postmortem men or special deliverers as forces, and they had no plans to – as of the last time he asked, at least. He could only hope that Stephen and Linda's plans hadn't changed – adding 'siblings' to his family would terrify him. The worst thing of all was his neverending fear that once he got 'siblings', he'd be forgotten altogether. Maybe even get his memories erased and turned into a special deliverer, himself. A shell of his former self, artificial happiness and all.

As he walked up the stairs to his room, he sighed, realizing the morning would bring a entirely new show – Butters happened to also be 'Little Marjorine', a performer in cute acts (featuring singing and dancing) during the day on weekends, and that was how his parents got their money, besides selling hand weapons. At least, then, he could see him.

It was a pity that the boy that he ended up loving played the cow. A black-haired boy with his hair cut short – a bit young, but really smart, sweet, kind, cute…he babbled on and on about him, although this had only come out towards Kenny, who'd been high at the time, and so he offered his theories.

"_Dude, what if the boy is a crossdressing girl? Just like you're a crossdressing boy. Then you'd have to crossdress as a boy crossdressing as a girl and she'd have to crossdress as a girl crossdressing like a boy and…." Kenny laughed. "It'd be fuckin' hilarious."_

"…_I don't think that'll happen." Butters grinned weakly. Kenny merely laughed again and wrapped his arm around him._

"_My Butters is in looooveeee! So this means I can't offer you casual sex when you get older?" Kenny stared into Butter's eyes as if asking him an entirely serious question of great importance. "I mean, we're both probably natural blondes, we co—"_

"_Sorry, Kenny."_

"_Fuck. Well, you know where I am if you ever want a good lay."_

"…_..Yeah. Thanks, Kenny."_

"_No, thank you. Hey, why's there a crow pecking at your ear? And it's changing colors?" _

"_It's because you're high, Kenny."_

"_Oh. Right."_

It'd been forgotten since, but he still seemed to remember the part that Butters hoped would be forgotten – the part where he propositioned the boy for casual sex – and this offer was always rejected, causing Kenny to have mild disappointment.

The only thing, however, that Butters could draw from anything was that Keith – was that his name? – Keith was someone he truly loved. Someone who he could relate to, someone who he could fall for, the first person to join the act and the first person to be truly enthusiastic about them, causing Butters to regain his spirit as well and dance all around as Marjorine, while Stephen and Linda hoped to god that one day, Little Marjorine could go perform for rich families – maybe in Denver, the capitol, the center of the whole state – and some place that some families only dream of going.

Naturally, Butters kept his head held high and his dreams still existing, putting on a good show, always, always, and then switching immediately into delivery boy mode afterwards. There was no rest for those who had to be deliverers. No rest.

Especially those, who, as best summed up, were unsuspecting heroes.


	2. Life on the Nickel

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **Okay, I really like some of the OCs submitted so far. :) Especially Bell, Julia, and Hazel (first time I've seen someone use my real first name for their codename, pfft, so I like Hazel a lot). I'll probably be starting to use those three pretty soon, but those whose codenames don't exactly fit the rules I'll probably alter a bit. So if you don't like that, sorries. ^^;; I'm gonna do my best to please everyone, but yeah. Only Hazel and Brian appear in this chapter – with a somewhat-important part focusing on them. So 6747 and nevous, here's one of the times your OCs get to shine! :D

As a sidenote, here are the OC counts so far and their homes.

Marsh: Brian/Jack Beanstalk (leader), Hazel/Sienna Gravel, Stan/Jack A. Nory, Shelley/Robin Redbreast (two spots left for deliverers, two spots for postmortem men, one spot for special deliverers)

Stotch: Butters/Little Boy Blue, Finn/Georgie Porgie, Skyla/Cinderella (the leader) (three spots left for deliverers, two spots for postmortem men, one spot for special deliverers)

Testaburger: Wendy/?, Julia/Itsy Bitsy Spider (three spots left for deliverers, three spots for postmortem men, one spot for special deliverers)

Black: Token/King Cole, Bell/Mary Lamb (three spots for deliverers, three spots for postmortem men, one spot for special deliverers)

Valmer: Jimmy/Humpty Dumpty, Iris/Lucy Lockett (four spots for deliverers, three spots for postmortem men)

Tucker: Craig/Peter Pan (Leader), Lilac (Barbrady)/Margery Daw (five spots for deliverers, two spots for postmortem men)

If the household you want to plop your OC into isn't listed, take into account the canon characters and go ahead and give a shot. I'll PM you if it conflicts with some of my planning. :) As stated before, this is the introduction to some of the inner mechanics of special deliverers and Lilac. And so, let's begin.

**Chapter 2: Life on the Nickel**

The room was dark, and the ceiling dripped down water occasionally, as she stared up at the ceiling, her mouth somewhat open, as if to catch a bit on her tongue. Getting up, she spun around, still reaching her tongue out to catch the water dripping down. Getting a drop in her mouth, she swallowed and smiled contently. She knew she didn't need it to survive, and it was only a simple pleasure, but it was something she delighted in secretly. Something to enjoy and entertain herself by. She pushed her huge hat – a witch's hat – up to show her face, and puffed up her cheeks, then running to catch another drip of water and giggling when she succeeded. It was the most she could do, locked up in a basement.

It was illegal to have a special deliverer, especially knowing the connotations of it. They were likely from a house you raided, and if they weren't, they were some half-dead child slave that you likely bought from a 'traveling salesman'. But every family had one with their each unique story. Lilac, to be exact, was Lilac Barbrady, having come from the Tucker's attack on the Barbrady household. She was alone, she was cold, and she was terrified. Looking into her mind, you could barely see a glimpse that she had known what was going on. It was definitely cloudy, but she had known.

_The pink room lit on fire as she huddled up on the bed. Her father wasn't there, and her mother had died a while back, causing her father to shrink more and more into stupidity, trying to turn himself into a joke instead of a tragedy. It was better to laugh than it was to cry – that was what he always said. Lilac believed it, and although she was somewhat of a mentally-challenged girl, and homeschooled to boot, she tried to keep her faith that one day she'd be able to laugh with her friends, all together._

_This was wrecked when the home around her began to turn into the gates of Hell itself. She looked around, barely grasping what was going on, and slowly held her teddy bear close to her, staring at the flames and whimpering. She could see her father. His shirt was covered in red. Why was it red? He ran towards her, through the flames, yelled out in pain, but held Lilac closely as she cried, terrified, holding her bear even closer. The one who stepped through the flame was a boy. He held a shotgun close to him, seeming to be emotionless, motioning for Barbrady to step away from the girl._

"_If you leave her, I won't kill her." He stated._

"_Do you promise?" The father asked, and the boy nodded in return._

"_I don't promise things I don't mean. Step away from her." He sighed. "I don't even want to do this much, but I am ordered to, and so…" The blonde kept motioning for Barbrady to move. The police officer looked down at Lilac, who merely looked back, with tears in her eyes, and let him go. He got up, and the boy loaded a new cartridge into the gun, motioning for the man to follow, and so he did._

_The sound of a gunshot seemed to be the last thing Lilac heard before passing out. _

_When she woke up, the world was red. Nothing at all seemed to be in place, and it was like blood stung her eyes every moment. The emotionless blonde boy stood over the procedures, nodding slowly as a doctor – what was he saying? – seemed to be explaining something. The girl twitched, showing that she was awake, and a shot reached her side again, causing her to only yelp a bit until she passed out once again._

_Waking up another time, the world was once again red, but a metallic red. And she could hear. _

"_The drugs should be wearing off….now." An old voice intoned. Lilac looked up at the boy and the doctor, and the doctor nodded. _

"_Speak." He instructed._

"_Where…where am I?" Lilac asked, in her somewhat-out-of-place Southern drawl. _

"_You are at the Tucker Household. Craig, here—"He motioned to the boy, "had saved you from a dangerous house fire. I'm afraid; however, your father has gone missing."_

"_F…Father…" Lilac repeated slowly, as if not entirely grasping the word. "…Missing…" _

"_It's alright, however. Craig has promised that you will be able to stay with him, at least for a while." _

_Lilac looked up at Craig and smiled, and the child motioned to follow as he walked away. Lilac – weakly, still somewhat wobbling – used her robotic implants in her legs to get up, and followed after Craig slowly, still smiling as kindly as she could._

_Trusting, unknowing what she had only known a few hours ago. _

Now, she was a simple-minded girl who could do nothing but laugh. Even if she were to kill anyone, she would still laugh. She had no other way to fill the void, many supposed, and that was her only way to do it. Not hearing the steps down the stairs into the basement, she continued to chase drops until he spoke up.

"What are you doing?"

Lilac paused, somewhat ashamed, moving her foot back and forth, smiling a bit shamefully as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Craig shrugged, and went on.

"Anyway. Dad and mom have a job for you. New shipment of supplies. You can probably get 'em quick and get 'em safely. If you can't, then you're not really worthy. If you can, then we go on." He stated bluntly. "Should be coming from the Docks. If it's not there, come back and tell me, and we'll get it settled."

Lilac nodded, and then giggled, running past Craig, pausing as the boy turned the key on her back, placing a cape around her neck which covered it up. She held her lighter/'wand' closely, flicking it on once to make sure it worked, and then turning it off and running out, when she was sure it was. Taking on the identity of 'Margery Daw', she passed through the streets, passing up people, passing up families and stores all on her way to the docks.

This is the time when the characteristics of special deliverers are stated – first of all, they all always had a giant wind-up key in their back. The key sent a special juice flowing all throughout the special deliverer's body, doubling their reflexes, their strength – basically elevating their instincts to what they would seem to be if put into mortal peril, although this causes the special deliverer to lose about a year of their lifespan whenever this is done – at this moment, Lilac wasn't expected to last more than 7 more years – 6 now.

Second, all are pale – albino. This was one of their stand-out traits as well. Many try to hide this one via injections or makeup, but it usually always shows, and that, notably, has what has gotten quite a few innocent children killed. No one is quite sure why they appear to be this color all of the time, but it seems to be the case that it happens for all of them.

Third, when truly activating an extreme burst of strength, or speed, or the like, their eyes turn red and blood begins to fill their mouth, causing them to have to spit it out to keep from drowning in their own blood. This has become known as a 'bloodlust', and it can be triggered by a certain passphrase that only the owners know, or the special deliverers can trigger it themselves by simply thinking of the phrase. Usually, it happened to be a sentence. Lilac's happened to be 'There is no greater joy than the one I have now.'

The final trait is that special deliverers are simply incapable of feeling many emotions, and those that feel emotions usually have another trait stripped from them – their sight, their hearing, their speech. This is to keep them extremely loyal to their owner, and it is usually done without asking – only another procedure with removing the sight, hearing, or speech is performed if requested.

Lilac's only emotion happened to be the one she appreciated most.

Happiness. Eternal artificial happiness.

Reaching the docks, Lilac paused, looking into the water, then looking up, seeing a man in a trenchcoat, who quickly handed her a box with a red ribbon tied around it. She nodded slowly, and ran back to her home, beginning to think her one phrase.

There is no greater joy than the one I have now.

Meanwhile, the Marsh door was opened, just as Hazel, followed by Brian ran in. Hazel placed her blue box on the table, followed by Brian's near-identical black one. Scratching her head, Hazel sighed.

"I can't believe it. Picking up a package….at the dump. It's like practically saying 'fuck you, this is trash, this is fake, you're gonna get chewed out for it'." She commented dryly. Brian shrugged.

"'Least it seemed genuine when we got it. But who knows, I guess fakes are gettin' better." He rubbed his chin. "You know, I wish we worked for a family that owned a winery sometimes."

"….I don't think trying to get me drunk would be in your best interests." Hazel stated. Brian, once again, shrugged and grinned.

"It'd be in mine."

That got him a good whack on the head, just as Shelley walked in.

"Alright, turds. Are these the packages?" She asked. Hazel nodded.

"Yes ma'am. Picked 'em up at the South Park Dump just as instructed." Hazel smiled. Shelley nodded slowly, then opened Brian's first.

"Tobacco leaves? Did—"

"Randy's delivery happened to be from the same man, and I couldn't turn it down, he offered to share – postmortem man can do deliveries in their best interests." Brian smiled nonchalantly. Shelley shook her head and pushed it aside, opening Hazel's box.

"Good, good. It's all there." Shelley seemed content with the animal skins found in the box. "Should be able to sell these off for a good bit, considering how rare they are. Good job….Hazel."

Hazel nodded, smiling, wiping sweat from her brow. Brian walked closely to Shelley, taking a lock of her hair and twirling it around his finger.

"Oi, you should reward me too. Maybe on a da—"

"Not in your life, you little turd." Shelley walked off, and Brian shrugged, just as Hazel put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

"Sometimes I pity you." Hazel grinned. Brian stuck his tongue out, but then licked his lips, smiling grandly.

"Pity me enough for a mercy fu—"

"No. Not that much." Hazel walked off into the house and turned on the TV, watching the news. She noticed a blown-up building, and whistled. "God-fucking-dammit." She read the headline stretching the bottom of the screen – 'Suicidal deliverer delivers her last package.' "I know this is bias crap – hell, its news – but god….how could this even be possible?"

The image on the screen depicted a young girl with purple hair with a pink streak running through it running through a crowd, into a train station, holding a box above her head, and quickly blending into a blue fire of an explosion. Somewhere within the flames, you could hear laughter. Brian walked over, and his mouth fell wide open.

"Oh….oh, Jesus Christ. I'm….wow." Brian raised an eyebrow, while Hazel merely stared, terrified as the news report went on.

"Sources say this may be a protest against the government considering their banning of deliverers and postmortem men altogether. An organized suicide bombing terrorist force of deliverers sent to ruin the world through these specialized packages – known as T-boxes, coming from the small 'T' engraved on the box."

"What are you watching?" Stan asked, walking in, kicking the door closed behind him.

"Anti-deliverer propaganda." Brian slowly muttered, then walked away. Hazel gulped, but sighed, shivering a bit.

"Maybe that's all it is, sure…"

It was obvious she wasn't sure, of course, but no one would mention that.


	3. I would do anything for you

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **Two more OCs have joined the fray thanks to the awesome Tlephin! Kuran, being a normal person (although probably someone I can use with the plot :D) will not be included in the list, but now we have another for the Testaburger household –

Testaburger: Wendy/?, Julia/Itsy Bitsy Spider, Benjamin/Dr. Facilier (yes, I'm passing this one – I LOVE that movie, soooooo yeah I'm a bit bias here :D) (three spots left for deliverers, two spots for postmortem men, one spot for special deliverers).

On another note, MOFOSTAN has offered to make WITHIN THESE WALLS into a DOUJINSHI! You can't believe how thrilled I am about this. I'm seriously. Effing psyched. I'm prepped for this.

By the way, the scene that you're about to witness will make a hell of a lot more sense if you've seen the movie/musical Gypsy, about the life of Gypsy Rose Lee, and her daughters. You'll see.

Oh, and the stars of this chapter – Benjamin, Julia, Wendy, Butters/Marjorine, and Skyla. How do they all fit together? Let's find out.

Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter 3: I would do anything for you**

"And now, presenting Little Marjorine and her team of Barnyard Animals!"

The boy – dressed as a little girl in a farmgirl outfit – ran on stage, waving to the crowd, and giggling. The cow, the boy, next to her, gave her an encouraging smile, and she began the show.

"Hello there, everybody! My name is Little Marjorine! What's yours?"

The animals crept around Marjorine, and she began to sing, dancing in step with the animals.

"_Four little ducks went out one day…" _

Sitting in the audience, a young man, and his coworker were having a small chat.

"You know, I wonder why…" The young man paused, as if to correct something, "…he does this work."

"_Over the hills and far away." _

"I think it's a thing to keep children entertained, or something." The girl stated, blinking, looking around. " 'Least he's not in any danger here."

"_Momma Duck went 'Quack, Quack Quack!' "_

Marjorine put her hand to her ear and listened as if to hear something. Three ducks ran on the stage.

"_But only three ducks came waddling back!" _

The boy – whose name was Benjamin – nodded, then chuckled. "I'll admit, this is pretty cute. Jellybean would like this."

"_Three little ducks went out one day…"_

The girl – whose name just so happened to be Julia – nodded as well, reaching down and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and opened the pack, lighting up one and taking a drag.

"You allowed to do that?" Benjamin blinked.

"No rule that says I can't." Julia shrugged.

"_Over the hills and far away."_

"If you say so…." Benjamin sighed. "Never understood those who smoke for pleasure."

"More smoking because I'm addicted to it in the first place." Julia smirked dryly, and then sighed, taking another drag.

"_Momma Duck went 'Quack, Quack ,Quack!' "_

Once again, Marjorine tried to hear something. Two ducks ran on stage this time.

"_But only two ducks came waddling back!" _

"What a mystery." Julia stated sarcastically, shaking her head. Benjamin laughed.

"_Two little ducks went out one day…"_

Off in the distance, you could hear the sounds of footsteps running towards another building.

"_Over the hills and far away."_

"Hey, you hear somethin'?" Benjamin asked, raising an eyebrow. Julia nodded slowly, and then got up, cracking her wrists, looking up at the cow on stage. The cow nodded, and Julia and Benjamin dashed off, Julia taking out her butcher knife – 'Blader' – the name she'd affectionately given it after a while, and Benjamin pulling out his darts.

"_Momma Duck went 'Quack, Quack, Quack!'"_

Marjorine paused, walking towards the side of the stage. At the same time, Julia pointed ahead, the cigarette falling from her mouth.

Who was walking in front of them was a little girl, quite obviously no more than 6, with bombs strapped to her back.

"_And only one duck came waddling back!" _

Benjamin ran up to her, grasping her hand. The girl gasped, immediately pulling away and pulling out a combat knife.

"Come any closer, and I'll cut your fucking neck off." She stated, clearly not having any clue what she just said, but looking frustrated and deadly serious all the same.

"_One little duck went out one day…"_

"Woah. Look, kid, what the hell are you doing?" Benjamin asked. The little girl scoffed.

"I'm fighting for the new age revolution. The SD & PM Rights front."

"….The what?"

"The Special Deliverers, Deliverers, and Postmortem Man Rights Front." The girl stated, crossing her arms. One could see she already had one arm replaced with gears and wires. "The ones who will make a change."

"….Kid, what the fuck are you doing with bombs on your back?" Julia asked bluntly, staring down at the girl.

"_Over the hills and far away."_

"I'm making a difference that people like you are too scared to make, unlike my mommy and daddy." The girl smiled. "My name is Sarah Goldman. My parents are all dashing at this library, along with me, and we'll all change the world together." Apparently, she realized she had been taking too long, and ran off ahead, giggling like the child she was.

"NO! KID, KID!" Julia ran after her, trying to catch up, and Benjamin followed.

"_Momma Duck said 'Quack, Quack, Quack!'"_

"PLEASE! DON'T!"

"_But no little ducks came waddling back."_

The girl ran into the building, followed by a teenage boy and a teenage girl, both assumed deliverers. Julia fell onto the ground, and Benjamin paused, trying to help her up.

"_Momma Duck cried, looking at the sky."_

In a burst of flames, the library exploded, sending debris everywhere, as the song and dance number came to a conclusion, Marjorine pausing, seeing the explosion, and only managing to mutter the last line quietly.

"_As four little ducks came flying by…."_

Julia slammed her fist into the ground. "Fuck! Dammit! Fucking dammit!" She cried, as Benjamin tried to help her up once more. "No, no….fuck it, I'm too weak to stand….I….can't….my god…."

As Wallace – the cow – ran over, Benjamin only looked helplessly at the other boy, and both picked Julia up, taking her back to the Testaburger household. Marjorine – that is, Butters – only looked helplessly at the scene, gulping in his throat as a brunette with pink highlights crawled onto the stage.

"You're the newbie, right?" She asked, chewing on some gum that she had in her mouth.

"U-Um, what are you talking about…." Butters smiled weakly.

"Cut the crap. I know who you are. Valmers sent me. I'm Skyla, otherwise known as Cinderella. I'm here to join your little 'family'." The girl stated, getting close into Butters' face. "Butters, otherwise known as Marjorine, Stotch."

"H-How do you know my name…?" Butters asked, falling over and crawling back.

"There are knowledge brokers. People who know things. I have a few assorted favors I can cash in to each and every one of them, and so I know. I know how old you are, I know your family, and I know that you're secretly a little boy deliverer, working for your parents to collect metals for your weaponry shop. And so, I'm offering my services. I am what they call a postmortem man. Your own personal assassin. And I'll kill for your family – and you – if you only give me a place to stay." Skyla stated all of this in a near whisper. Butters gulped, and nodded slowly, glancing towards his parents, who quickly ran onstage, seeing the situation. Of course, this ended with the girl joining the Stotches, and Butters feeling awkward at dinner that night.

Skyla, as it turned out, seemed to harbor more information than the entire town combined. She kept speaking of personal information as if it were a common thing – drug rings as orchestrated by the McCormick family, and that being what Kenny and his siblings primarily 'delivered', and various other tidbits that Butters wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hear or not.

"And that was how I got this scar." Skyla finished, leaning back. "It's grown to be a natural thing. It happened. So what? Not like worrying about it will change it."

"That's…erm….a positive way of thinking, Skyla."

Skyla grinned, as Butters slipped away from the table. The only thought on his mind was…

_Well, at least mom and dad don't seem to like her more than me._

And although that much seemed to be true, what Skyla said next was enough to put a impact onto anyone's mind.

"…And so. I escaped from the gang….who I think raped me, there was semen on my clothes when I woke up…..or something, and I ended up here. That's why I'm killing. In the name of my family's untimely death." Skyla smiled.

Butters raised an eyebrow, but then sighed, thinking about his own motives.

…_Then what is everyone else killing for? _

Meanwhile, Wallace – Alouette, at the time of speaking – walked Julia into the house, with Benjamin. Julia sighed, looking at the ground, and once again, Benjamin was the one to speak.

"….You can't let their deaths hurt you that much. They chose it." He sighed, although Julia stood up, albeit weakly, stared into his eyes, and spoke.

"Do you think that I fucking care that they chose it? Death hurts. You can't choose it. My father certainly didn't. My mother didn't want him to, I didn't want him to, and no one wanted him to. But he did. He died. And my mother became a fucking lunatic because of it. I was afraid I'd have to put her down like a goddamn dog." She pulled her sleeve up, pointing at a large scar on her arm. "Do you see this? This is my scar. I named it. Its name is Orlando, and I'll tell you why. Orlando, Florida, is where it all happened. Orlando, Florida, is where my father is buried. Orlando, Florida is where I stopped believing that death would lead you to some fuckin' nice pearly gates and wonder why I keep living, and suddenly realized that certain things break without certain people present. My mom broke without my dad present. Still, sometimes, when I come home, I hear her crying. I hear her, with tears in her throat, cursing her existence, and wondering why it just couldn't have been her. No. Goddammit, no. It had to be my father. The one true guardian angel in my world, my father. And it tore my mother apart, too. We only speak as if we're strangers, and that's why I come home late at night. So I don't see her. Her greetings after we moved were the worst. 'It's nice to see you, Julia.' It's like she was talking to a stranger. **It's like she was talking to a stranger!**" Julia slammed her fist on a table and glared back at Alouette and Benjamin, filled with a fury that didn't come upon her so often. She slowly reached up, pointing to the scar on her right cheek. "You see this? This was from my mother, the day my father died. She didn't know. I don't hate her for it. I just wish she…"

_The living room of the Furns was in shambles. There were things thrown everywhere, from fury, from despair, from….all of it. And there were always tell-tale wet spots on the carpet. Standing above the sink, a lonely woman stood, holding a knife above her hands. She looked emotionless, and stared far away, as if there was something in the distance to be seen, something out there calling for her, someone, something, anything. And hiding behind a large statue in the middle was a young, six-year-old girl. She didn't know. How could she know? She….She couldn't. She merely stood there in sheer terror of someone, someone who she cared for, and trusted, looking so far off._

_She always thought of one thing, and that was if her mama was in a wonderland or not. Julia – the child – surely hoped her mother was happy, wherever her mind was. She was happy, at least her mother could dream, but she was also scared. Her own mother was in a place she couldn't ever reach, and that was what terrified her. _

_Pulling on her mother's dress, she yipped, like a child often does._

"_Mama, I want a glass of water."_

_No response._

"_Mama, can I please have a glass of water?"_

_Once again, no response. _

"_Please, mama, water, mama…"_

_This time, the woman snapped out of her daze, and glared down at the child, as if she had ruined her fantasy. Julia stared up, questioning, terrified, horrified, scared of her own mother. _

"_Get it yourself."_

_Julia paused, and then spoke up again._

"_I can't reach the glasses, mama."_

"_Get it yourself."_

"_I cannot reach the glasses…please, mama, get me water…"_

_That was when a shard of glass came flying off of a cup that had a picture of her father on it as it hit the floor. _

"_YOU WERE WHY HE DIED!" Julia's mother shrieked. "YOU WERE WHY HE DIED! NO! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM AND YOU CAN'T BRING HIM BACK!" _

_Julia fell to the floor, her cheek bleeding, terrified. Suddenly, her mother paused, realized what she was doing, frowned, staring at her own self, and sighed. _

"_No. I killed him."_

_She slashed across her own cheek with a shard from the ground, screaming in pain as Julia ran over, the shards going into her feet, screaming for her to stop._

"_Please stop, mama! Please stop! Daddy wouldn't want you to die! Please! Don't leave me all alone—" _

"…She…." Julia broke into tears again, and Benjamin and Alouette slowly led her towards the couch, Alouette running his hand through her hair.

"Just…let it all out." Alouette sighed, hugging Julia tightly.

As she tried to stop crying, she could only imagine a perfect world, the one her mama drifted to – the one that she would do anything to get to.

And maybe, just maybe, they'd all get there one day.


	4. Don't Stop Color on the Walls

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **Another OC has joined the gang due to **Chaos' Mistress**! Say hello to Nero (who I don't think is a Gary Stu anyway, but I'm just a crappy fanfiction author who's written sues before, herself, so I have no real right to talk)!

I received the concept art for the doujinshi. It. Is. Gonna. Be. So. Uh-may-zing. This is one of the few ways a little 15-year old girl like me can get totally squealing and shit. Especially one that's an otaku in the first place. Doujinshi ….jeez, I'm just as excited as you folks, if not moreso.

The chapter titles are something I thought I'd bring up in this stupid little author's note. If you're not aware, they're all songs from Foster the People's 'Torches'. You should listen to it. Because seriously, what says tear jerker cyberpunk more than _ALL THEM OTHER KIDS WITH THE PUMPED UP KICKS_

Ahem. Anyway. I'm gonna try to make the rounds to the OCs I haven't included yet to here, those being Kuran, Bell, Finn, and our newest addition, Nero. We'll also be seeing more of the mentioned-once 'Little Red' within this chapter, and quite possibly Lilac as well in the next chapter. Oh – and this is somewhat of a breather chapter (hence it being short and shit), next one will be heavy again.

On another note I'm sorry for giving the goths names, but I can't go with Kindergoth, Tall Goth, and Red Goth. Bwah. That makes me go 'NO THEY NEED NAMES'. So I named them (crappily) so I wouldn't have spasms :D

And so. Let's begin!

**Chapter 4: Color on the Walls (Don't Stop)**

The Black household happened to be the largest one on the lot, and the most heavily guarded. Of course, there was little to no reason to have it be guarded so well – although Bell and Token were both deliverers, the two could handle most anything that crossed their path, to be entirely honest – and that was exactly why and how the Blacks became wealthy and stayed wealthy. It was, undoubtedly, a hostile method, but it was one that worked, albeit with Token constantly feeling guilt about it.

This afternoon, both Bell and Token were running back to the home, trying to see who could make it there first. She ran ahead, although Token quickly caught up, grinning widely. Bell merely yawned, and started walking, apparently tired of the game. Token pouted, slowing down and walking next to her.

"What happened?"

"I'm tired." Bell stated simply, and trudged on ahead, scratching her head. "No use running when I'm tired."

"…But we were having a race…." Token went on.

"You win." Bell said, and clapped her hands, then shot both of them into the air. "Hooray for Token."

"….What would you do if I were Stan Marsh wanting your package?" Token tried to snap, although he, notably, was a failure at this discipline thing.

"I'd give it to him. We get more than enough, so the poor kid can have something." Bell stated once again, and yawned. Token sighed, shaking his head.

"You need to get a hang of this 'taking care of your packages' thing." Token frowned.

"You need to not be so uptight." Bell nodded, and then walked on ahead.

"….Why do I keep you around?"

"Because you love me."

"Not likely."

"Good." Bell shot off one of her rare smiles, and continued walking, whistling a tune slowly. Suddenly, a blue-haired girl jolted ahead, holding a shotgun in her palm and a red cloak around her, shooting off her gun, and then flipping back, pointing the gun straight at Bell.

"The package. Hand it over." The blue-haired girl spoke, adjusting the shotgun so it pointed directly at Bell's heart.

"And who are you to tell me what I should do?" Bell crossed her arms, seemingly calm, although her eyes widened a bit.

"You may know me by many names. Bloodcloak. The First. Wolf-Slayer. Above all, I prefer the title Little Red." The girl spoke. Token stared, slowly pulling out his set of smoke bombs. Little Red apparently noticed, and readied her finger on the trigger. "Throw, and I shoot."

Bell grimaced. "Oi. Who said I'm any damsel?" Pulling out one blade, then two, she readied herself against the dangerous assassin, shooting Token a small glance.

_Help me. _

Meanwhile, the McCormick crew was ready to go out for another run. Karen looked down, looking at the nunchuk in her hands.

"…Are you sure I'll make a good postmortem man, Kenny?" She asked quietly. Kenny only nodded, sighing quietly.

"Karen, we have no other choice. We either use you as defense and have a excuse for you to come along with me, or we use you as offense, and let you most likely die at the hands of Craig, or Token, or even Jimmy or Timmy. I'm not letting that happen. As your big brother, I'm saying that you have to take on the identity of Rapunzel, or else." Kenny sighed. "Oi, Monday. Come on." He motioned to the special deliverer the McCormicks owned – Nero – who nodded, smiling gently, running over to Kenny and hugging him tightly. "…Affection later. Let's get that goddamn package." Kenny pulled away silently, then took Karen's hand and ran out, not even glancing back at the home he was destined to return to.

Because who would want to return there, where a mentally-challenged psychobrat is treated as a human being, and the real children, the true ones, are merely forgotten?

Pulling around the corner, Kenny noted the commotion going on, seeing Little Red, Bell, and Token. Sighing slowly, he pulled out a shuriken, aiming for the back of Red's head, and motioned for Karen to try to get close, slowly, and choke her to make her pass out. Nero shook his head, but pulled out a dart, aiming for the correct spotting. He sent Kenny a small smile, as if to say

_I know what I'm doing, brother. Please trust me! I'll knock her out, and we'll get the girl and the boy out of here! Yeah! _

Kenny nodded slowly, holding Karen back as Nero threw a dart, hitting Red in the middle of her back, making her fall to her knees. She grunted, trying to move, but unable. Bell blinked, surprised by their good luck, but frowned, seeing the dart.

McCormick. One of those who seemed to like the Stotches – the weak bastards who were barely trying to make a name for themselves, aligned with the Valmers. Creepy bastards, all of 'em. She sighed, giving a thumbs up as to say thanks, then grabbed Token's hand roughly and ran off, glancing behind her ever-so-often.

"I thought you said you didn't want to run…."

"I lied, okay? Running is the best thing to do at this moment. We need to get away."

"….If you say so."

Yes, he'd definitely question her about this later.

Kenny shook his head, but walked off once again, taking Nero and Karen's hand, walking towards the Stotch home, having little-to-nothing-else to do, and in need of more shurikens.

The door jingled as the three walked in.

"Stotch's Weaponry! We make me—oh, hey, Kenny! And hey, Karen and Nero!" Butters grinned, being familiar with the three as a strange girl popped out from behind the counter as well. Kenny raised an eyebrow, but then shook it off.

"My name's Peter Piper during business hours, Little Boy Blue. That goes for Monday and Rapunzel as well." Kenny stated, motioning to the other two. "Anyway. How goes it? Who's the chick?"

"Oh, this is Skyla." Butters introduced her. Skyla nodded.

"Sup." Skyla said, raising a hand, although not smiling. She pointed to Nero. "You're pale."

Nero nodded quietly, raising an eyebrow as if to say '_And?_'

"You don't talk." Skyla once again stated the obvious, nodding as if she'd figured something out. "You're really odd, but I like it." She then glanced over at Kenny and Karen, and then looked down at Nero, covering her mouth slightly, whispering. "Why are you involved in the drug gang?"

"Oi, that's not what we are." Kenny frowned, glaring at Skyla. It was pretty obvious he didn't like the brunette already, but Skyla merely shrugged, popping the gum in her mouth.

"Oh, and boss, boss." Skyla held up a hand of a person on the ground, smiling. "This guy was passed out in the backyard. I think he wants to join us. We should adopt him."

"…Um….do you even know that for sure?" Butters blinked.

"He said something that sounded like 'Butter' before he passed out. Might've been 'water'." Skyla shrugged. "Either way. We should take him into our family. I'll be the mother, and you'll be the pet dog."

"W-WHY AM I THE DOG?" Butters yelped, jumping back in surprise. Skyla smiled.

"Go woof."

"….Woof?" Butters blinked. Skyla clapped her hands.

"A good dog!" Skyla patted Butters head, smiling brightly. Butters sighed.

"….Um, can we skip the rest of the comedy club's showings and just get what we came in for? Shurikens?" Kenny smiled weakly, obviously not too adjusted to the way everyone seemed to be around this location. Butters smiled, seeing it as a way out, and nodded, pulling out a box. Of course, however, Kenny just couldn't help it. "Hey, Butters. Remember that one time that I damn near well ruined your eyesight due to one of these?"

"….Y-Yeah." Butters frowned, remembering, looking a bit worried all over again.

"Well, that'll happen again if you ever betray me!" Kenny grinned widely, and then kissed Butters on the cheek. "See you next time I need more stock!" He took Karen's hand, walking out, as Butters blinked, sighing, watching as Nero left and looking up at the still patting Skyla.

"Quit it!"

"A bad dog!"

By nighttime, the streets were nearly empty, and there were only a few souls on the street - Puck, known better to his friends as Kindergoth due to hating his own name (although he was in fourth grade now, so he wasn't exactly fitting this name anymore), Anderson, known to some as 'Red Goth', Henrietta, and Rikki, the tall goth of the four. Puck crossed his arms, lighting up a cigarette and taking a puff.

"Wonder if any information's coming in today for you." He glanced over to Henrietta. She shrugged, leaning back against the brick wall that they usually hung out by.

"We can hope, I guess." She stated, and that was that. The fifth member of the team – Kuran – walked over, his hands in his pockets. He waved a small hello, and the other goths nodded in greeting.

"So. Any info?" Henrietta was the first to ask – a bit straightforwardly.

"Nothing really. More or less they're still trying to get all the streets cleaned. It's not working, but I think they're going to try to change that. Antigone's coming up with some ideas."

Antigone happened to be the mayor's youngest (adopted) daughter, and her favorite. Apparently, she seemed to be the more-or-less brains of many operations, charging in on matters that a girl her age usually wouldn't know.

In other words, Antigone was a pain in the ass.

Henrietta coughed, and then shook her head. "Oh, fuck. Bullshit, that's what it is." She sighed, then crossed her arms. "Great. Conformists trying to crack down. Again. It's going to take a toll on me. God dammit. So glad we're all non-conformists."

"Totally." Rikki spoke up, nodding. "Your brother's gonna be in deep shit."

"As if I care." Henrietta stated. Kuran shrugged, and then took his usual seat, fitting inbetween Anderson and Rikki. All five simultaneously took drags off of their cigarettes, and sighed.

Life was a neverending twisting void of pain and despair.

At least, apparently for them.

"So, did you hear about the suicidal deliverers?"

"I don't watch news."

"Well, neither do I, but I just….heard." Puck covered it up quite easily, blinking, staring up at Rikki. Rikki sighed, but then spoke.

"Right. Worst fuckin' thing since Amsterdam for those conformists." Rikki stated bluntly. "'Least it doesn't concern me."

"…Right, unless you're killed by one."

"Shut up, Puck."

"Don't call me that!"

"Both of you shut up." Anderson stated, and that was that.

No sound was left on the street besides the panting of breath, the sound of a few footsteps, and the sound of a blade hitting the pavement…


	5. Houdini

**Within these Walls **

**Chapter 5: Houdini**

It'd started raining when she returned. Slamming the door open, she held the package out, smiling widely, kindly, slowly glancing around for Craig and then peeking around when she didn't see him.

"Lilac." Craig stated, beckoning her over. He was in the study, looking at a book. Lilac smiled, handing him the package, and Craig put it aside, getting back to his book. She sat down, on the floor, next to him, and smiled when he ran his hand through her hair. It was all she could hope for, a small sign of affection, and nothing more. That was all she honestly wished for, as well. She wouldn't – she couldn't wish for anything more, just that was enough to make her feel truly happy instead of the artificial happiness they forced upon her.

Sometimes, she questioned if she loved him, but she knew that she couldn't – Craig was her master, and nothing more. There was nothing more to it and there never needed to be. He finally looked inside the box and nodded appreciatively, patting Lilac's head again. "This is what I needed." No I love yous. No kisses on the head, nothing that she imagined, and yet she kept herself drawn. She kept herself dreaming, as that's all she could do. At that moment, someone knocked on the door, and Lilac had to scurry back to the basement, hearing the door slam behind her when she entered.

And once again, it was only the water drops, the hard stone tile, and Lilac, and she could do nothing more but chase after drips and drops like a long-forgotten dream.

The guest happened to be a new associate of Craig's – someone by the name of Alouette. Craig stared into his eyes, crossing his arms.

"What do you want?" He asked, somewhat bluntly. Alouette adjusted his mask and crossed his arms, his black cape flowing behind him.

"I would like to speak to you indoors." Alouette stated, as Craig opened the door widely, inviting him in. The black-caped boy walked in and leaned against the wall. "I will be brief, so do not trouble yourself over length of time. The factor is that I have been informed that a new string of suicidal deliverers and such has been spreading throughout the town. Do you know any of this?"

"Look, my knowledge broker is a dumbass." Craig stated, blowing a bit of his hair out of his eyes. "Vibes doesn't know shit. She can't say anything except 'I know a lot, and you'll have to pay me if you want to know more.' It's always vague, and sometimes she acts like a piece of pie on her shoulder is saying something, when it never is. I wish I'd hired one of those goth kids instead…" He shook his head. "So, no, I hadn't heard 'til now. What's with it?"

"Hell if I know, why would I be here if I did?" It was visible that Alouette smirked beneath his mask. "The only thing is that I'm warning you about it so you don't have to trouble yourself over news about it later. They're mostly destroying government lairs, so don't get yourself involved with Antigone or the like and you'll be fine." Craig nodded, and Alouette began to take his leave, until Craig grabbed his hand tightly.

"Oi. Remember the agreement." Was all he said, and then let Alouette run off into the night, leaving only the feather of a crow in his stead.

Meanwhile, Antigone – the face of the people, district 876's darling, and overall a 'kind, sweet little girl', was making a required viewing speech on the TV. Her blue hair trailed behind her, as her siblings – Puck, Tybalt, Beatrice, and Hermia stood off to the side, Puck lighting up a cigarette, Beatrice smiling and waving to the populace, Tybalt standing proudly with her siblings, and Hermia trying to convince Puck to share the cigarettes.

"And so. You may have heard about the recent problem with the league known only as the SD & PM Rights Front. District 876 will not stand idle, letting all this happen. Security is increasing fast, and salaries for the troops will be increasing. Please, join the District 876 Security Force and defend our district from these insane special deliverers, deliverers, and postmortem men. The government WILL rid our town of criminal activity, rest assured! This new bill will be passed under the name of 'Barbrady's Law', in honor of the long-missing Officer Hugo Barbrady, who protected our town years ago."

Craig lit a cigarette, himself, taking a drag and sighing. It astounded him that it was still under the pretence that the mentally-challenged officer was 'missing', and not 'presumed dead'. Or that they'd never took the time to look for the body.

He then began to suppose that the rumors of District 876 never cleaning their water supply were true.

Lilac, who had been hiding in the basement until Alouette left, slowly stepped out with timid steps, and although she smiled weakly, it was obvious that if she had the capability to, she would be nervous. Craig merely motioned for her to come over, and that was that.

Only the artificial love, happiness, and emotions that she felt took herself over, and she silently took her place next to the apathetic boy, smiling gently as he patted her and ran his hand through her hair as if she were a pet.

It was all she could truly wish for.

During that time, there seemed to be a official meeting between the deliverers and postmortem men of the Cartman, Broflovski, Marsh, and McCormick families. Eric was the first to arrive at the designated meeting place – Kyle's house – and promptly sat in the meeting room, spinning himself around in the spinning chair to entertain himself.

"For a jew, you've got a nice chair, Kyle." He stated, spinning around again. Kyle sighed, finding it best to not say anything – at least for a few more minutes. As 30 minutes passed, Eric spoke up again.

"Are you sure you told 'em that we'd meet here?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Kyle nodded.

"I said at my house, in the meeting room. They both agreed." Kyle stated. Eric rubbed his chin, and then shrugged, spinning around again. "Oh, and you were supposed to bring any special deliverers, deliverers or postmortem man that you had."

"….So I was supposed to bring Polly Kettle?" Cartman blinked as if it were the first time he was told this information. Kyle nodded. "Fuck." Cartman hung his head, shaking it. "Wish you'd have told me sooner."

"….I told you a week ago."

"….Minor details."

Kyle sighed, just as Kenny walked in, placing a sack lunch on the table, motioning for Karen and Nero to walk in. Nero smiled brightly, seeing Kyle, but shied away, noticing Eric. Karen stood next to Kenny, holding his hand tightly. It was at that moment that Ike – Kyle's brother, of course, and a postmortem man for the family – walked in, taking a seat next to Kyle.

"Yo. Am I late?" Ike asked. Kyle shook his head, and then looked up at Kenny.

"So, where've you been?"

"Here. There. Somewhere. Anywhere." Kenny grinned. "Really, I had to do a few things. Nothin' big." He shrugged. "Bought some more shurikens, at least."

"Good for you." Kyle stated, his eyes clearly telling the story of 'I've been trapped with the fatass for a whole hour. HELP ME.' Kenny chuckled, shaking his head and taking a seat, pulling a banana out of his sack lunch – to which Kyle recoiled at – and eating it, swallowing and breaking a piece off for Karen, who eagerly ate it as well. Stan came in not too long after with Hazel, Brian, and Shelley. Kyle cleared his throat, quickly getting into meeting mode.

"So, you must be wondering why I called you all here today?"

Brian raised his hand.

"Yes, Brian?"

"Is this about that rights front or whatever it is?"

"…Damn." Kyle sighed, pinching the bridge of his forehead. "First of all, none of you know anything?"

Ike spoke up. "I know a somewhat high ranked member in it, but that's about it."

"Ike, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't feel like it." Ike smirked. "Anyway. Your….classmate….Pip. He's a card-carrying member, and I've got leads on it pouring out the waterworks. Apparently he's been a member for a while. There're also suspicions about that Satanist kid, Damien." He shrugged. "Only one confirmed, however, is Pip. Maybe French people have issues."

"They eat snails. How do they not have issues?" Eric asked, entirely straight-faced. Ike nodded, pointing at Eric.

"He has a point."

"Thank you, Ike, you somewhat-tolerable Jew, you."

"No problem, Cartman, you somewhat-tolerable Nazi, you." Both smirked in unison. Kyle stuck out his tongue, apparently disgusted, but tried to get the meeting back on track.

"So, if Pip's a member, we better talk to him, and soon." Stan stated.

"Well….I dunno. He….isn't someone I like to speak to." Kenny said. Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Brian, Shelley, Ike, and Hazel nodded. "So who's gonna step up to the plate?"

"I'll…I'll do it." Stan said. "But I'll need Ike to help me squeeze information out, and maybe someone to intimidate him."

"I can scare the piss out of him." Eric commented, and Stan shrugged.

"If you think you can, Cartman."

"Oh, I don't think. I know I can scare Frenchie. He's a dumbass."

"…Right. So that's how it's going to play out. Should we also talk to Damien?"

"I'll talk to the Satanist." Hazel slowly volunteered. Nero also raised his hand, smiling. Stan, Kenny, Kyle, and Cartman exchanged glances, and Kenny slowly lowered Nero's hand.

"Sorry, buddy. Can't let ya. Might be too dangerous." Kenny offered, though Nero looked somewhat disappointed. "But I'll help ya, Hazel. Seems like somethin' that 'the boy who could never die' can handle."

Everyone except Kenny, Karen, Nero, Cartman, and Hazel blinked, dismissing the comment, although Hazel was one of the few that recognized the significance, and nodded.

"So Team A is Stan, Cartman, and Ike. Team B is Hazel, Kenny…and I'll go with ya." Kyle stated. "Seems like this'll work, although I'm sure it won't be as simple as it seems at the moment….all of you, go get some rest, we're going to organize a more efficient strategy tomorrow at school. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Be prepared, then." Kyle smiled, although he blinked, somewhat confused, when Cartman didn't leave. "…Dismissed?"

"What's the point of leaving if you're just going to call me in the effing early morning anyway? No. I'm staying right here. I'm sleeping in the Jew Fortress 9000 to prevent that. No. Not lettin' ya wake me up with the cellphone song I set for you."

"….What did you se—"

"You don't want to know."

"….I'll take your word for it, but seriously, leave. Get out."

"No." Eric smiled, and then curled up on the floor, taking off his jacket and using it as a blanket. "Not leaving."

"Ugh, fine!" Kyle snapped, leaving the room as Cartman chuckled, putting his arm under his head as somewhat of a makeshift pillow, laughing himself to sleep.

And despite this, this still didn't stop the little Jewish boy from bringing him a pillow in the middle of the night, with an actual blanket stolen from the hall closet.

_He almost looks nice when he's sleeping._

That was Kyle's only thought as Eric rolled over, smiling gently within his sleep, and the boy tiptoed out, closing the door slowly.

The only thing he missed were three words.

"Thank you, Kyle."


	6. Wouldn't it be Nice

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **Kindergoth is one of the most unused characters and one who I find absolutely adorable. He's just one ball of emo trash rolled up into a little badass child, and this chapter's going to focus on Kindergoth – otherwise known as Puck, and his (all adopted) siblings – Tybalt, Antigone, Beatrice, and Hermia. (Their names just show my obsession with classic plays.) Anyway, Puck, Wendy, and Butters are most likely going to be the most important characters in Within these Walls – just noting for later.

Also, the story, how it's planned out now, is going to be hella long. So I hope you're all in for either a really long ride of a story or a whole trilogy of 'Walls' (either one, I can do it). Feel free to cast votes for what I should do in the reviews section – I read each and every one of your reviews.

Oh, and next chapter should get back to the main plot, Butters, Iris, Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, and the rest – though don't write this one off, I'm installing a few hints at what may happen within here as well, there is no filler in Within these Walls – besides that, more Skyla in this chapter, with her meeting Craig.

Anyway, I've talked long enough. Let's begin.

**Chapter 6: Wouldn't It Be Nice**

He'd always lived his life as the outcast child. No real special traits, unlike the rest of the lot.

Antigone was the model student – straight-A, member of many school clubs, part of the honor society, and wise beyond her years, even when she was younger than Puck himself.

Beatrice was the shy but kind oldest sister, glasses-wearing, trying to shy away from the spotlight, being found adorable by many and being found somewhat annoying by some – Puck happened to be on the latter side of this.

Hermia was every boy's dream. Blonde, slight southern accent, medium height, skinny, and always bubbly.

Tybalt was the second youngest (third being Puck) and she was a lovable troublemaker, often hyper and messing things up for her 'mother'. As much as he hated to admit it, Puck was closest to Tybalt.

And then there was Puck. Nothing special, nothing to care about, only the 'disappointment', the black sheep, the elephant in the corner, the one little boy that we took in due to his parents being dead and having no other family to speak of. That alone had driven him to hate himself, hate the world, and hate anything that got within one foot of him as a result. Pretty soon amongst his siblings he'd established the name of 'Kindergoth', and he simply accepted it as his name, finding no real other care amongst it all. Tybalt still called him Puck, although he resisted and always continued to say that his name was Kindergoth, she still continued calling him Puck.

At this night, Puck was sitting with Tybalt, in her room, being forced to read her a story. Naturally, she'd picked the one that she beloved the most – District 876's special retelling of Snow White – Glass Heart. He'd promised her this much at this time, and so he began to read as Tybalt sat on his lap, grinning widely.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl born with the most shiny, silky skin in the land, one that you could imagine that you could see right through. Her name was Glass Heart.

Her mother was a jealous ruler of all the land, and so she cast Glass Heart out into the woods for simply being odd, being strange, and being, as she hated to admit, more beautiful than her."

Tybalt frowned, crossing her arms – she hated this part – why, mothers would never do that.

Puck, however, begged to differ – his mother would send him out onto the streets in a heartbeat.

Of course, neither of them spoke up about these thoughts, and Puck continued reading.

"In a cottage far into the woods, a group of elves found Glass Heart and let her into their tribe, pushing her to cast off her past as a human and join the elfin tribe as well.

She refused, although they still kept her company, despite their more harsh traditions leading them to massacre, murder, and many other foul deeds that made Glass Heart almost sick to her stomach.

The elves continued this until one day; a prince from a neighboring kingdom approached the elfin village. The prince was beautiful of heart, and strong of will, and this was why the elves hated him so much. The queen of the elves, just as cruel as the queen of Glass Heart's village gave Glass Heart a peach, inviting her to taste it, as it was a rare treat amongst the elf tribe.

Glass Heart bit into it, and her skin slowly began to rust, turning grey and her mind becoming warped, much like the elves had done long ago. The prince ran over, taking the peach away and telling Glass Heart to spit out the piece she had in her mouth."

Puck closed the book.

"…And did she come back to the human village?" Tybalt asked.

"Not yet." Puck smiled weakly, patting Tybalt on the head. Tybalt yawned, curling up in her bed.

"Good night, Puck."

"It's….Ki….good night, Tybalt." Puck sighed, and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Walking to his room quietly, he sighed, looking out the window as he stepped in.

_Isn't there anything more out there?_

That was the minute Antigone walked through the door. As the youngest, she was technically supposed to be in bed already, but considering her intelligence, had always not really considered that a rule – more of a 'suggestion'.

"Dearest brother, I believe it's past time for you to sleep." Antigone smiled.

"Look who's talking." Puck snapped back, rolling his eyes. "Conformist."

"….Excuse me?" Antigone blinked, tilting her head. "I still don't get that conformist thing….so odd…anyway, mother will be checking on you in a while, so please try your best to get some sleep." She smiled – that fake kindness – smile and skipped out the door, humming under her breath. Puck sighed and opened up the window, letting the wind try to rock him to sleep. The only thing he could imagine was that he, one day, might just try being a deliverer just to piss his sisters and his mother off.

It was a stupid and slightly insane idea, of course, but that was Puck's mind – either filled with despair and longing or filled with stupid plans that wouldn't work in a million years. He lied down on his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars pasted on his roof. Artificial night, and of course, night was always the calmest time of the day. Glancing at his clock, he slammed his head back onto his pillow. 12 AM. Midnight. At least he'd have no worries about New Years if he was able to stay up this late now.

His mother – the mayor, Delilah – walked in quietly, and seeing Puck, with the lights on and his head slammed into his pillow, immediately deduced right away that Puck wasn't quite asleep.

"…You're going to get up early tomorrow, you know. School." She commented, and walked out, leaving Puck alone.

School.

The only time when he had to put up with the conformist cretins, although he did have a certain liking for one Ike Broflovski, knowing that he was too smart to be a true conformist – but he pushed it out of his mind. Tomorrow would be spent behind the school, sharing cigs with Rikki, Anderson, Henrietta, and Kuran. Drifting off to sleep, he slowly remembered how they met, and sighed.

"_Oi, Mayor's boy. Planning to run for class president and one-up your mom?" _

"_Hey, Hey, Puck. My name's Hockey. How are ya?"_

"_I wouldn't want to fuck Puck. Ew. Creepy bastard. No one would fuck Puck."_

_Sitting in the corner, all alone at recess, Puck stared off at the other groups of children – including his sisters, who'd somehow made their way into different social groups. Being enrolled in private school so long really damaged his social ability, it seemed, and Puck glanced around, somewhat scared. Pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes, he walked over to a group of kids dressed all in black. _

"_Hey! I'm Puck! Puck Swanson!" Puck smiled, extending his hand. The tall goth stared down at the hand, and spat on it, causing Puck to recoil a bit. "Um…well, I thought that I should make friends, it's my first day here. So I'm Puck, who're you all?"_

"_Non-conformists, conformist." The slightly-overweight girl answered bluntly, crossing her arms. "You remind me of my brother. Ughh." _

"_Conformist." The goth with red hair stated, and all three nodded. _

"…_Excuse me, what is a conformist?" Puck asked, raising a eyebrow. _

"_Mainstream, you know. Mainstream." The tall goth stated, waving his hands. Puck slowly nodded, somewhat understanding. _

"_Oh, no, I'm not a conformist. Conformists are b…." He stuttered, trying to get out the swear word. "bad people who I don't associate with." _

"…_.Kid, your mind is fucked." The girl stated, seeing his hesitation. "You need to let go of conformist ideals if you want to join us."_

"_I will! I promise I will." Puck nodded quickly. The Goths exchanged glances, but slowly nodded after._

"_Rikki."_

"_Anderson."_

"_Henrietta."_

"_Puck."_

"_No, no, call yourself something cooler." Anderson sighed, rubbing his chin, trying to think of a name._

"…_.You're in kindergarten, right?" Rikki asked, and received a nod in return. "Kindergoth."_

"…_He's gonna be hardcore." Henrietta stated. Anderson nodded, and Rikki put a hand on Kindergoth's head lightly. _

"_You're going to be a non-conformist." _

_And finally, the acceptance seemed…right._

In the morning, in another place, Skyla had agreed to take the early shift, standing behind the counter, staring off into space. She finally seemed alert when the bells to signal that someone'd entered the shop sounded off.

" Welcome to Stotch's Weaponry. My name is Sky—" She paused, seeing the customer, a somewhat-short blonde-haired boy. "…You're not smiling."

"….No?" The boy asked, blinking, confused.

"You should smile. It stretches out your cheek muscles." Skyla smiled.

"…Can I just get what I came here for?" The boy crossed his arms, frowning darkly.

"Not until you smile." Skyla singsonged.

The boy sighed, but forced a smile, letting it go really easily. Skyla clapped.

"Good job. Have a doggy biscuit."

"I don't want a doggy biscuit."

"Do you want a Scooby Snack?"

"No." The boy glared at Skyla.

"What's your name?" Skyla abruptly changed the subject, although for her it was a usual course of thought.

"…Craig. Craig Tucker." Craig stated, looking at Skyla, trying to get where this conversation was going.

"I'm Skyla." Skyla grinned. "I work here."

"That's nice, can I get m—"

"You have a pretty smile."

"…..Thank….you. Can I get my—"

"In fact, you're pretty overall cute."

"….Tha—"

"I want to have your babies." Skyla smiled, looking off into space. Craig slowly backed away, blinking at the girl's bluntness.

"…CANIPLEASEHAVEMYBULLETS?" He snapped.

"You did not have to yell, Crai-Crai." Skyla stated as if she were offended. Craig blinked, then extended his hands, waiting for the bullets. Skyla gave him a box, then kissed him on the cheek, smiling as Craig jumped back, blinking widely and glancing back at the girl repeatedly. "Come back soon." She stated, and waved.

_Only because I have to. _

Craig sighed, and walked out into the streets, running back home, although he didn't really need to.

There were only a few more minutes before school started.


	7. Warrant

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **Bwah. I feel like Tweek trying to live up to expectations. SO. MUCH. PRESSURE. -_O So I'mma keep tryin'. See how this chappie goes. I've made a Within these Walls playlist with songs I listened to while writing this :3 I might list it after I've written the 30 chapters of WIW, then moved onto Outside these Walls, and then to After these Walls. Yes, I've decided that it's going to be a 'Walls Trilogy', and the last one will probably be the darkest, just sayin'. Oh, and we have two new OCs – Lamia and Ryan, both for the Tweak household, Lamia being a postmortem man who is also Tweek's sister, and Ryan being a deliverer. Lamia will likely become just as important as Wendy, Butters, and Kindergoth, so…yeah. Anyways. So here's the next chapter, it didn't come out how I expected, but I have to write myself out of a corner somehow. Hope ya dig it. 'Cause I dig it.

**Chapter 7: Warrant**

The morning greeted the district with an unpleasant haze as the boy stepped into the sunlight, the sun shining on his raven-esque hair. Frowning, he put his hands into his pocket, walking out into the streets as the town continued its unfading cheerfulness even in the misty morning. The school seemed to be the only thing not as bright and cheery, and Wallace hardly noticed as he'd been walking into it for so long that it was merely somewhat of a afterthought to him, hardly the usual reaction of those unfamiliar that would be 'Oh, what a imposing building' or 'That place must be very important to have such a presence'. No. It was only the school, although it did also fit a nice niche for those so inclined – knowledge brokers. And Wallace just so happened to be in contact with his personal knowledge broker as he walked in, shooting her a glance as she walked over, hugging him tightly.

"M…Mercedes. Not so tight." Wallace smiled weakly.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mercedes giggled. Mercedes Schnieder happened to be a worker at the local 'fine eatery', Raisins, which also quickly had turned into a hangout for those-so-inclined to 'take a load off'. This, of course, led quite a few postmortem men and deliverers to the place, leading a 'Raisins Girl' to be one of the most suspected knowledge brokers – but also one of the most useful. "Anyways. So. I picked up something interesting last night, Wally."

"Oh? What?" Wallace asked, staring down at the blonde. The blonde smiled sweetly, and then pouted.

"Pay me." She stated. Wallace sighed, and kissed her on the cheek, causing the girl to giggle again.

"Okay. Well. Like, a boy with an orange parka came in, so I had to serve him and shit. He got really drunk, so he started talking to me about things. I listened, pretended to sound interested, you know, but then he mentioned something really interesting."

"_Oh, right, I get to beat the snot out of the son of Satan tomorrow." Kenny laughed, wiping his mouth. "Ahhhhhhgh. That little arrogant bastard, that fuckin' snot, he's gonna die, we all know it. Because, ba-bam, aren't I much better than anyone in that suicidal little terrorist crackpot unit?"_

"…_Like, Damien Thorn is part of the…."_

"_SD and PMS Rights Frontal. Yep. The bastard's apparently a high-ranking member, too! Hah! My ass! He can't do shit." _

"So, the son of the devil is a high-ranking member of that parade." Wallace stated simply, rubbing his chin.

"Ehe, yep." Mercedes nodded. "And remember who this info came from- Mercedes Schnieder!" She curtsied, skipping back over to her locker and taking her books out. "I'll make sure that no one else knows, either, I know I can keep Ferrari silent, but Porche might be a problem, hm…" She shrugged and skipped off to her class, just as Wallace bumped into Butters –the boy who he knew to be the other half of the Marjorine show via second-hand knowledge from Mercedes, once again, just as soon as he was about to walk out.

"Oh….um, howdy, Wallace!" Butters smiled weakly, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry. Was about to rush for class…where're you goin'?"

"…Different class." Wallace stated nonchalantly, walking towards the door.

"Oh, who?" Butters asked. Wallace sighed, not expecting the boy to be that inquisitive.

"Our teacher's probably out, anyway." Wallace mumbled, and then Butters jumped into his path.

"…..You're not going to class, are you?"

"….No." Wallace frowned. "Now, please, move out of the way."

"No, you should go, you'll start fai—"

That was when Wallace's temper flared, and he simply pushed the blonde aside, walking as fast as he could to the large doors. Butters held his arm, holding him back.

"Look, go, come on, it won't hurt….what could be so important as to miss class?" He asked innocently. Wallace looked down, and then spoke slowly.

"Alright. You win, Stotch. Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course, Keith."

"Well, then. Follow me...and my name isn't Keith." Wallace motioned, heading outside. Butters followed, and Wallace took his hand, running into a dark part of the school, with no windows, and no one to see what was going on. "My name is Alouette. I am a deliverer and a defender against the SD and PM Rights Front."

"R…Really?" Butters mouth opened in a shape somewhat in awe. "I'm….I'm a deliverer too!"

Wallace sighed. "Look, kid, you're a deliverer, I know that." He crossed his arms. "However, know this. If you choose to cooperate with me against this conspiracy, you'll have to keep some pretty tight secrets."

"I can do it." Butters nodded. "You can count on me, Aloue—"

"Shh. Shh. Call me Wallace, okay? Wallace Testaburger. They don't know, no one knows, except you, Julia, Benjamin, and myself. Please." Wallace mumbled as kindly as possible. Butters nodded quickly.

"I'm Little Boy Blue, ehe." Butters smiled sweetly. "I mean—I'm Marjorine Sto—No, I mean—"

"Pause it, Marjorine, Blue, Stotch, whatever your name is. Stop revealing things in plain street view. I only chose to reveal my fact as I knew there was no one coming at this time, but now it seems that that's not the case now that class is beginning and most people go to work at this time. "You'll not be going to school today, if you choose to participate in this. You'll be planning out a good course of action, considering that I'm entirely sure that Damien wouldn't admit his involvement in plain daylight, and anyone who tries to get it that way is a fucking idiot." Wallace walked off, motioning for the boy to follow. Butters dashed after, although he glanced around, somewhat worried.

"Aren't you afraid our parents will see us?"

"Tch." Wallace shrugged. "Doesn't matter, as far as I'm concerned, my mom and dad don't get involved in what I do, and I don't get involved in what they do."

"Mmn…" Butters pouted, but slowly followed after Wallace, glancing around curiously as if to see his father at any moment.

Meanwhile, within the confines of the Tucker household, Tweek (having been invited over for a business deal a few nights previous) had brought over his sister, Lamia, as he was obligated to take care of her most of the time (considering the fact that she seemed to be far too much for him to handle nonetheless, however, this may not be a good choice on the Tweaks' part).

"And so, I am proposing a alliance between both of us in order to establish better relations towards households nearby the Tucker household. You in or out?" Craig asked, crossing his arms. "Of course, we do have a special deliverer you can use if needed."

"We already—" Tweek paused. "U-Um. Aagh! Too much pres—s—show me the special deliverer."

Craig nodded, and pulled open the door, just as Lilac, crouched on the ground, looked up into the light.

"Yes, master?" Lilac asked, stepping up one step a bit timidly.

"These two wish to see you."

Lilac smiled, and ran on up, falling on her knees weakly as she reached the top, then wincing, getting back up onto her feet. "Hello. My name is Lilac Tucker." She smiled.

"…H-Hello. I'm Tweek, and this is Lamia." Lamia seemed to be staring at the special deliverer with a certain sense of interest, reaching out her hand and then recoiling it as Lilac did the same.

"…I like her." Lamia stated simply, crossing her arms. "I think she'd be good. Almost as good as Antoinette."

"Y…Yeah. Okay. We accept." Tweek smiled weakly. Lilac laughed, as if there was nothing else for her to do, and Lamia only stared at her with mild interest, some mix of confusion and amusement crossing the mind of the young girl.

"Good. I expect you to cooperate with anyone that comes your way, then." Craig stated, then walked off into his study as Lilac shrunk down to the ground, but still smiled, as there was nothing else for her to do.

Other than, of course, be locked in the basement, contained with nothing but the raindrops, and occasionally her own blood to make pictures with when she got desperate enough and scratched where she knew metallic implants lie.

And, naturally, that was everywhere, leading to her chest being covered in scratches. Lamia looked down at Lilac and petted her weakly, as Lilac smiled up at her.

As with no memory of anything, Lilac could believe that she would like these people.


	8. Waste

**Within these Walls **

**Author's Note: **By the way, I'm not saying anything about Wallace. Just remember he's important. You'll see his secrets in later chapters. Also I'm sorry updates are slow, I'm a slacker who tries to avoid living up to responsibility and I complete character memes and submit OCs to other stories instead bwah. Feel free to pelt me with tomatoes. And I've decided….by chapter 10, things are going to get a lot more graphic…and I mean a LOT more graphic and I'm upping the rating to M. If you're not cool with that, then STOP READING AT CHAPTER 10. The parts after this in the trilogy – Outside these Walls and After these Walls will be straight HARD M RATED. So, um, buyer beware. Oh, and with another side-note, if any of you are TV Tropers, feel free to get this little story a page or at least a small recommendation under the South Park fanfiction section. Because that's been one of my dreams for an effing long time. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter 8: Waste**

As Butter entered the large home, a girl slid down the banister inside, and flipped down in front of Wallace and Butters. Julia stared down at Butters.

"So, who's the kid?" She asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Shirley Temple here doesn't look like anything strong."

"His name is Butters, otherwise known as Little Boy Blue. He will be a valuable ally in our cause." Wallace stated, sighing. "You and Ben need to help 'im adjust, and Blue, you've gotta send all your allies this way."

At that moment, a foot burst through the door, just as an all-too-familiar face stomped in.

"You forgot your bacon." Skyla said, holding up a piece of bacon that seemed to be cold. "Finnick here wanted to come along to give you your eggs too."

Finn appeared from behind Skyla, holding out a plate with eggs on it.

"He's a good partner. He makes toast. I'm glad he fell from the sky."

"…." Butters laughed weakly, as Wallace stared blankly at the two others.

"This…..is your calvary." He said dryly, crossing his arms. "Well. At least we don't have to hire a comedy troupe." Wallace began to walk off, apparently motioning for the boy named Benjamin up the stairs to begin some sort of training for Skyla and Finn. Butters slowly followed after Wallace, not knowing much else to do. Wallace began speaking again. "So, Ben will train your little 'platoon'. Julia will likely help Ben out and be the leader on any missions they go out on. I'll be your partner, and considering that you're the main deliverer, it seems, we'll have to train you even harder than your 'army' will be trained."

Butters gulped. "I'm….I'm not actually that good."

"Well, you're going to be."

And Wallace walked ahead, his long hair flowing down his back.

Certainly, of course, Butters thought he was the prettiest boy he'd ever seen.

"FUCKIN' HELL!" Cartman snapped, walking down the sidewalk with Stan and Ike. "The bitch had better show up tomorrow, or I'll punch his skull in."

"Easy, C-man. We're not playing Good Cop, Bad Cop right now. Not quite yet." Ike smirked, shaking his head. "Save that for when Pip turns up."

"OH, IT'LL BE WORSE THAN THAT!" Cartman frowned. "He'll die by my fist—and I'm not playing, hell, I feel like doing it right now…."

"No. Not until we get the information, big boy."

"AY!"

"It's alright, though, we don't have to concern ourselves since he wasn't here today. It'll be less worry for us." Stan smiled weakly, trying to stop both from screaming much more, especially Cartman. "We can go to my house and relax, or something."

"Oh, yeah, let's go to Stan's overly-loaded-house where he gets the latest technology and everything good. Oh, yep. Mmmhmm. Won't make us jealous. Nope." Cartman growled, clearly in not one of his best moods. "But it's better than my place, so why not. Better wait for the Jew, the hobo, and the rocks-for-brains."

"Looks like 'em now." Ike pointed behind him, glancing back. Hazel had noticed the three boys ahead, and quickly took Kenny's hand, Kenny grabbing Kyle's hand, not wanting for the other to be left behind in Hazel's dust. "Yep, that's them."

For some reason, Kenny taking Kyle's hand only made Cartman's mood darken even further.

"Good….good." Cartman answered with a bit of delay, beginning to walk ahead. "Welcome, Jew, Hobo, and Rocks-For-Brains. Recover any info from the demonspawn?"

"He wasn't there today." Hazel piped up. "What about you, with Frenchie?"

"Same." Stan blinked. "….You think something's going down? Both of them absent at the same ti—"

"My sources will be right on it." Ike assured Stan, patting his back.

"I hope…." Stan sighed.

Within the small chamber of a room with nothing but chains binding her to the wall, a small blonde-haired girl let out an inhuman screech, crying, as tears ran down her cheeks. Her name was Bebe. She'd lived in an orphanage for the entirety of her life, and she knew no other life than that.

It was only by chance that no one adopted her.

They ran out of money, she had known they did, and then the caretaker decided that it was of no need that she should stay around when there were high bidders for these sort of 'puppets', and so, Bebe was sold off to men in trenchcoats who agreed to fund the orphanage if she would only go with them, no questions asked.

That was the last time she'd seen Red.

That was the last time she'd seen any of the other children.

That was the last time she'd seen sunlight.

Screaming out, she slammed her head against the wall behind her. Everything was coated with a sandpaper-esque substance. If she moved too much, she'd get cut quite easily, and so a good majority of the time, her legs were bleeding or already scarred over, and her neck usually had a gash on it as well.

It wasn't as if she knew how to speak anymore, do not speak unless spoken to, do not leave your position, all food will be fed to you so you still do not move, and you are never to ever ask any questions. It was the life Bebe had committed herself to, and she firmly believed it was all for the better.

Sighing, she hung her head, staring down at her feet. One was already bleeding, and she felt the blood trickle down her foot.

To be honest, the blood and pain was the only thing that reminded her that she was alive, and so she loved it.

"_You're leaving?"_

The words still haunted her.

"_Yeah. But, Red, I'm sure you can see me. Maybe mommy and daddy will take you in, too."_

She winced at the words she'd spoken. Why?

"_No. They can't….ehe." _

She smiled so sweetly, and kissed her on the lips, leaving a small trace of lettuce from the night before, and skipped off.

Bebe let out another moan and ran her feet once again against the sandpaper. She began to cry, falling down on her knees, her arms being drawn straight up by the chains.

She released yet another inhuman yell, and hung her head, crying herself to sleep, while, in the meantime, another boy with a clipboard tapped it slowly.

"Yes, the process of her becoming special is….going quite well. Only a few more drugs and she will be set."

"You're a monster, you know."

"But, she'll soon be yours. Only wait."

And, within Bebe's dreams, the image of Red slowly disappeared from her mind, causing her to awaken again and scream out as another person injected some sort of fluid into her arm.

_Why…?_


	9. Love

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **I was mentally debating on whether to put the reveal about Wallace in the sequel, or in this one, but, eh. I'll put it in this chapter right haer. So, um, keep reading to see. And I think this is one of the better chapters I've put out lately. I think it's gotten crappier and people've stopped reading, so….sorry. It'll be picking up from here, now, though! On another note, you'll see just how deep the rabbit hole goes in this part, so if it's not rated M by this chapter (mostly due to Wallace's reveal)….yeah, definitely by the next one. Also, vote in my poll, on my page. Do it.

**Chapter 9: Love**

Butters winced, running through the obstacle course, holding his arms out to his side, hopping up on the cushiony mats, but making sure not to touch the red one, for what is often considered an ally or a resource, may, in some cases, be an enemy. In this case, the red one represented light, which would often be a useful resource, but then if you were trying to hide from insane terrorists would more often than not get you found. Wallace was chasing after him, pretending to be an enemy, although more often than not, Butters got 'captured', which led to scolding from Wallace. Nonetheless, Butters kept going with a determined face, jumping upon the mats, running away from Wallace, trying to live up to his standards….and maybe, after a while, he'd notice.

Meanwhile, the other two were going through the same sort of ragged training course, although, quite naturally, Skyla seemed fine.

"It's like pulling a long strand of hair from your teeth. It's painful and hard to get out, but it will benefit you in the end when people don't ask you why you're chewing on your hair." She stated, if ever asked.

And so Skyla wasn't asked that much. Finn, on the other hand, seemed a bit unused to such dangerous matters, but considering his neverending silence, one could never really truly know. Skyla happened to be his interpreter, although one could tell she was most likely making these things up.

"Finn thinks that the course is like a giant bunny rabbit. You play nice with it, it loves you and will eat all your carrots. You play hard with it, it will brutally murder you and your family."

It was only a day two weeks after when Butters had completed the course.

"…Good job passing the beginner field." Wallace smiled. "You're getting better. Well, that should be it for today, so get on home."

Butters nodded and began to walk home, when he paused outside, looked down, and realized he hadn't put the 'practice sword' back where it belonged. And so, leaving Skyla and Finn to walk home alone, he dashed back to the Testaburger mansion and went to go hand it to Wallace.

"W…Wallace? I forgot your—" Butters stared into the bedroom, where Wallace sat, in hi—no, her…nightgown.

"…." Wallace stared down at Butters for a few moments, before instantly tackling him to the ground, pressing his wrists down. "….I'm sorry." She reached over behind the door, and pulled out a dagger, holding it to Butters' throat. He gasped, wincing at the metallic touch against his neck. "You….you cannot have seen this, no…" She looked terrified, as if she were doing something wrong, but also seemed terrified for a entirely different reason….Butters gulped, looking up.

"Why….why didn't you tell me—"

"Because I can't. I can't. Ever. No one knows." Wallace stared down into Butters' eyes, holding her dagger to his throat still. "I'm….I'm not. I'm a boy. Just like you."

"No, you—"

"I'll….I'll kill you if that's not the truth. I'll kill you, and I'll kill your whole family." Wallace got up, holding the dagger in her hands, at the brink of tears. "My name is Wallace Testaburger, and I am a normal teenage boy. I like girls. I like to command my own forces, since my father is not around and my mother died long ago. I….I am strong."

"….What happened to you….?" Butters choked out, standing up, staring at Wallace, terrified just as much as she was, although for entirely different reasons. "What…happened?"

"…I am my father's first and last born son. I am his prize possession, since girls are not good commanders, girls are not meant to lead a whole family…if I were a girl, I'd have died, or my father would have voluntarily given me to a special deliverer laboratory. I'm glad to be a boy….especially since mother is gone and father will not come back…." Wallace smiled, a bit sadly, the remnants of tears in her eyes. Staring at her chest, you could see slits and tears as if she'd tried to cut her breasts off, but eventually gave up. "I….I'm so happy in my position."

Butters stared, extending a palm, but Wallace—no, Wendy hit it, shaking her head lightly. "…Butters…." She mumbled, but she held the dagger to her chest, inbetween her breasts, and shook her head quickly. "Please, leave, before my hand is forced….please, simply forget."

Dropping the sword, Butters frowned, beginning to slowly step away, but as Wendy drew the dagger out, he ran down the stairs, glanced up at Wendy, who slowly walked into her room with small, quiet footsteps as if a little girl, seeming lost in the world, and then slowly walked outside, his hands in his pockets, his teeth chattering, and his mind lost in a sea of thoughts from which, he assumed, he would never recover from.

And the last thing that seemed to happen tonight, to a young girl, intermixed with thoughts of suicide, masculinity, and self-identity, she slashed a nice line above her breasts with her knife, watching as the blood trickled down onto her breasts as if to cover them, the shameful things, and fell onto her pillow, the bloodstained knife in her hand. A warm hand, belonging to Julia, slowly took the knife from Wendy's hand, sighing, staring down at the girl with mixed pity in her eyes, and slowly walked out, placing it in the hole near the door, as it rested every night, just after its owner had decided to punish herself for the night.

Of course, after the wear and tear, there were always the nightmares.

"_I never wanted a daughter!" People screaming as if this were a tragedy. "Condition her! Change her! Rip off her breasts and make her a man!"_

_She couldn't do anything, it was a wonder she even remembered, it was a wonder she had—_

_Only boys clothes were in the closet. She'd learned to call herself Wallace now, as if any time she called herself Wendy, she was quickly rebuked. _

_And that was, how she knew that she would always have a scar on her stomach. That, as she learned, was the foul birth canal, and she was merely a horrible crevice, an abomination from which sin spewed. She was less than dirt to her father, and the servants about the palace seemed to never care, either. _

_That is, until Julia showed up. Cold, and alone, Julia was originally hired to be Wendy's maid, although she was not much older than the 5-year old girl. Although, it seemed to be some sign of comfort. Seeing the new girl, she spoke slowly. _

"…_You….you've been cursed too?" _

_She didn't know until she was told. _

_Until she was locked in a cellar for the night. _

_And then it all made sense, and Julia became Wendy's only friend, as well as Ben, who showed up a bit later to be Wendy's bodyguard. _

_The only comfort she had._

_The only light in this, this neverending nightmare that only ended with her father's disappearance._

She woke up every morning with her hands curled into fists, screaming at the top of her lungs. No one came to comfort her, as they were rebuked when they tried. And, then, within the day, Wendy disappeared to become Wallace. And there was no point to go any further than that, as despite Wallace being tougher than Wendy, her heart was still within her, and there was no point to go any further into the girl's psyche, which was only locked inside walls.

And, although Butters couldn't, at the time, control it, he was the one to finally delve within these walls. The gentle, shaking back and forth, walls that were just waiting for someone to finally break them.

The cool breeze of nighttime wafted upon the boy's jacket as he dashed through the streets, glancing back and forth, as if to try to see if there was anyone following him. As far as he could tell, there was no one. And then he felt a sting on his right arm, and jumped back, clutching at the spot where the pain had struck him. The boy, with a green cap, stared at him, and then shook his head, looking down at his dagger.

"…I don't want to fight." The boy stated nonchalantly, and then began to walk off, the pudgy boy trudging after him.

"What do you mean by 'I don't want to fight'? We always…"

"I'm not in the mood, okay?" Kyle frowned. Cartman tapped him on the head.

"Earth to Jew, come on, we sh—"

"I don't want to, okay, Cartman? The fighting in this town is driving me insane, and with the new 'cause', it's not helping." Kyle snapped. Cartman blinked.

"Okay, I know we're not the closest of friends, but something's up." Cartman crossed his arms, then grabbed onto Kyle's hand, stopping him in his tracks. "You. Tell good 'ol Doctor Foster what's up."

Kyle muttered something.

"Louder."

"…mmntgh…."

"Clearer."

"My mom supports the front."

"…..See, I always told you your mom was a big fat bitch." Cartman stated, as if he had pointed out something incredibly obvious. "So, she supports the terrorists?"

"N-Not how they do it, but…..what they're fighting for….she supports every damn thing, and if anyone finds out, the government will likely take us…" Kyle looked up, and then glared at Cartman. "….Are you…"

"Look, Kyle, I may hate Jews and daywalkers, your sort, but I don't….hate you in particular, to be honest. You're safe." Cartman shrugged.

"….Absolutely?" Kyle raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"'Til the day I die." Cartman grinned. "Now, come on. If you're out here, there's a package waiting. We can split it if it's good."

"….Fine." Kyle smiled in return. "Thanks…Eric."

"….No problem, Kyle."

Tossing whatever he found down the gutter was always Kenny's favorite activity at night, although he never expected anyone to join him. At least, until Stan showed up sometime near midnight. The first sign that someone was about was that a coin fell into the gutter, making a small splash. The second…

"So, you toss something in and wish on it, right?" Stan commented, walking up to Kenny. "Let's see…I wish…"

"Not exactly, but…" Kenny shrugged. "Sounds like an idea."

"Sweet. I wish….for…peace amongst the town." Stan smiled.

"You sound like a hippie." Kenny commented. Stan shrugged.

"Well, at least I'd not have so many scars on me if there were peace. I mean, think about it, no more getting hurt—"

"I'd still get hurt, Stan."

"Only by the authorities, and that's only because you steal shit." Stan crossed his arms.

"Point taken, but still."

"God, what are you even doing out at this hour…?" Stan questioned, frowning.

"I could ask you the same thing." Kenny grinned.

In unison, both boys answered. "Couldn't sleep."

"….Well, alright then. Seems like its set to be a long night for the both of us. Got any more coins?" Kenny asked, taking a seat near the gutter. Stan nodded, and with that, the boys listened to the water flow underneath the ground, sitting next to each other, quiet, but still feeling the warmth of each other's company.

As Lilac had adjusted herself slowly to her new environment, she had still felt temperaments about not being in a basement all of the time. Fortunately, there was a small girl who talked to her occasionally to make her feel a bit better. Lamia. She sometimes talked to her, sometimes just a simple phrase, but as far as Lilac was concerned, Lamia was her only friend, besides Master Tweek and Master Craig. She felt attached to her, but for all the wrong reasons, she felt close to her, but she didn't know why, or how, but she….knew. And that was all she knew. A unstoppable rush of joy that she couldn't tell, but a unstoppable rush of fear to go along with it, and a unstoppable paranoia that she, one day, would lose the only thing she cared about, and although her emotions were usually sealed, these were the only ones set free, although she still hid them, believing them to be things that would, eventually, simply disappear as they had before.

And she, as far as she could tell, couldn't tell that the cords were being unwound.

The closest she had gotten was that night, and even then, it was simply her walking into Lamia's room.

"….Hello?" The girl questioned. "Oh. Lilac. Come in." She smiled as Lilac walked in, a bit slowly. "Can't sleep?" The girl was oblivious to the special deliverers having no need of sleep. Nonetheless, Lilac nodded. "Come on, you can sleep with me."

Lilac hesitated, but slowly crawled in beside Lamia, staring up at the ceiling, and then feeling warm as Lamia laid an arm over her, as to protect her, but then felt a sharp pain, a coldness, a….she didn't know.

Although, what she didn't know, was that this was called paranoia, and fear of losing what you have.

And she'd be experiencing it for a while now.

When daylight struck, it led to another long day of training for Butters, Skyla, and Finn, all trying their hardest to become good troops. Wallace didn't say a thing, his mouth shut tightly, and Butters, in fear, kept his mouth shut as well.

It was only within a small allotted amount of time that Wallace became Wendy, during a small break. She sat next to Butters, and both ate lunch, Wendy pausing, and in a higher voice than normal, seeming more feminine, sighed and began to speak. "You really are getting better, you know. Pretty soon you'll be stronger than me….I'm not surprised." She smiled sweetly, although a bit sadly.

"I'm not sure if that'll be true." Butters commented, eating a sandwich he'd brought over. "I think you'll probably be better than me for a long while, if not my equal."

"…No. I can't be. I'm…too weak." Wendy stated, and then wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "…You're going to be the leader, because I believe in you. So, believe in you more than me, okay? I'm not something to be believed in." She looked down, kicked the ground, and slowly transformed back into Wallace in one simple sentence. "Well…come on. We're going to have to get back to work sometime, cadet, and I'd rather it be sooner than later. We're getting 'em next week, so we'll have to prep ourselves. Come on."

With that, Butters hopped up, and to a simple face change, Wallace's hard gaze to Wendy's sweet smile, he started training again, trying harder than ever.

_Only for you….I don't really know you as well as I should, but….I'll learn more of you, and we'll stand side-by-side….because I know you're just as strong as me….love._


	10. Pumped Up Kicks

**Within these Walls**

**Author's Note: **I am warning you beforehand. This chapter contains graphic rape (of an underage character), gore, and other things not set for the squeamish. If you are disgusted by **ANY OF THESE THINGS**, I suggest you skip this chapter. Please. I don't want a million reviews telling me that you got offended due to it, as I'm warning you here. **IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH, SKIP THIS CHAPTER. **Thank you. On another somewhat-related note, I will be archiving WIW just in case it gets removed - If it is removed, I will try to form an account on an adult fanfiction site, or another site (maybe Deviantart) to host the fic.

**Chapter 10: Pumped Up Kicks**

There was never a empty day in the two competing groups – both were into heavy training, although one naturally seemed more trained than the other, and it was a great irony to the world that neither knew of the other's existence – as far as they were concerned, they, themselves, were the only hopes for making a good name for deliverers and such. Which, naturally, led both to train as hard as they could.

There were only a few flaws in this plan – most notably, one named Karen McCormick. The bright, although physically frail and almost certainly ill with some sort of disease, and smiling girl had 'joined' one of the groups, and although her mind could easily work out battle plans, most of the time, she had almost put herself to sheer determination to work as hard as everyone else. She knew her weaknesses, she merely refused to admit them.

And that, of course, was her downfall, as within the dead of night, if you do not admit your flaws and conquer them, it may turn out for the worst.

She knew this, but she wasn't truly aware of the consequences.

Karen had always loved the rain, and so she had intended herself on going on this delivery, since it was a rainy day and she had been able to sneak away from her older brother, and her special deliverer, with neither noticing her disappearance – although, when they did, it would certainly be a cause for alarm. She walked in the streets, puddles splashing against her legs, and she smiled, coughing, and stepping through the puddles, shuddering sometimes from the cold. It was a short while before she found herself lost within the dead of night, but the brave girl kept persisting that she would prove herself, that she would definitely be able to do something that her brother shied away from.

She wouldn't have to be the one to rescue for once – she could finally be the hero, as she'd looked up to her brother as for so many years.

Tripping over her own two feet, she winced, looking down at her leg – blood trickled down her leg in a steady stream, and she swore under her breath, weakly getting up again, and proceeding further into the night.

By at least 1 AM, Kenny had noticed Karen's disappearance, and all the members of the Marsh, Broflovski, McCormick, Stotch, and Cartman families were out searching for Karen.

It was only one that found her.

"….Karry?" Skyla muttered, looking around. A frail, weak, near-death gasp came from an alleyway, and Skyla slowly walked down the path, her shoes making small clicks against the path. "…Karen…" She mumbled, running a bit faster. As she reached Karen, she wished she wouldn't've gotten there as fast.

Karen was lying in the alley, her clothes torn, and small slashmarks on her wrists and her legs that almost seemed like blood-red handcuffs. She could barely speak, and one of her eyes was slashed over in an X that still bled, dripping into her mouth. She swallowed the blood with only small whimpers, and the thing that horrified Skyla the most was that there was cum on the side of Karen's mouth, and on bits of her clothes. Skyla slowly stepped away, twitching as if a feral animal.

"_Oh, look, you're a pretty little bitch, aren't you?"_

"…." Skyla stared down at the young girl, who extended a hand, as if to say without speaking 'help me'. She gritted her teeth, looking down at her own palm.

"_I…I miss big brother. Can you take him to me, please?"_

Skyla stepped away, shaking her head slowly and curling her hand into a fist.

"_Isn't that precious? She's just so innocent….I bet you're a virgin, aren't ya, bitch?"_

"No…no…."

"_I'll lead you to your brother. All you have to do is…"_

"….nononono…" Skyla backed up once more, tripping over her own two feet and falling onto the ground, staring into Karen's eyes, seeing herself, Karen, herself—

Herself, promised with her brother returned to her, sucking the men who killed her family dry and swallowing their semen, all of them calling her 'their little bitch', letting them shove their nasty, dirty cocks in her vagina, seeing her blood and their laughter, the same laugh that she heard during the disappearances, the realization that these were the men who did it, and the final realization that she could do nothing about it.

She escaped, of course. She only could, as they planned to kill her after the rape. She forced herself to imagine a place where it had never happened, imagine a girl she couldn't be anymore, imagine something that would never be. And so she made up lies, tiny lies in her mind that wouldn't mean anything, it was quite simply something that she could pass up, and over time she told the truth to others, but never to herself.

She never admitted one last thing, either.

She enjoyed it.

And now, staring into the eyes of the helpless Karen McCormick, she rasped, getting onto her feet, shaking her head rapidly, and running down, away from Karen, away from everyone, away from everything, she wouldn't—couldn't, take it anymore, and she ran from it, screaming at the top of her lungs as if for a requiem.

One that would, of course, never come.

Kenny found Karen only about five minutes later. He stared at Karen, as in disbelief, and then, hugging his nearly-comatose little sister closely, quietly stated – and with a tone that everyone could tell that he knew no mercy to this soul – "Who did this to you?"

The only way that Karen could respond was by pulling a small red piece of cloth out of her mouth, the same color as her blood, and staring at it silently, as her older brother burst into tears, grinding his teeth as if to force himself to look brave once again, although he had no strength to do so.

Skyla still ran down the road, far in the distance—

"_Oh, that's good." The man grunted, Skyla sucking on his cock gently, as if unsure, and his partner moved Skyla's hand as if to jack him off at the same time. _

As she knew –

"_Little….Lolita….bitch." The man laughed, shooting cum into Skyla's mouth, who swallowed it, recoiling in disgust, and then panting, just as another stepped up._

She could not take back her previous actions, no matter how well she concealed them.

At the same time, Puck had settled Tybalt into bed, and was, at that moment, looking out the window, just as a radio intoned behind him.

"_And concerning the recent crimes of the 'deliverers', one must wonder – are they lawful, or have they even gone so low as to use their marking on corpses of their victims?"_

He stared off into the stars, listening quietly as the announcer continued.

"_A 'X' on every victim's eye seems to mean that they are victims of the deliverers, and a O around their eyes – both of them – seems to be code that they are a deliverer – more accurately, part of the infamous SD and PM Rights Front, led by two illustrious figures named, in codename, the Mad Hatter, and his partner, The Red King. If you have any information upon these notable figures, please contact—"_

The broadcast decreased into static, as Antigone walked into the room.

"Older brother. You should really go to bed instead of listening to the radio, please." She intoned quietly, holding her hands to her heart. "Please, as tomorrow is a new day."

"…I'll go to bed in a bit." Puck sighed, looking over at Antigone, who nodded slowly, and began to walk off.

It was notable, that as she looked at him one last time as she left, she had an X over her left eye.

Kenny and Stan were carrying Karen to her home, and her room. Kyle was somewhat unable to bare the sight, Cartman even looked a bit repulsed, and everyone except Nero (who trudged slowly behind the two, appearing as if he was cursing himself repeatedly, feeling guilty).

"….Are you gonna be alright, dude?" Stan spoke up, the first to break the silence that had overlapped the group since the discovery of Karen.

"….I…..I don't know." Kenny sighed. "….I…..I should've gone through this, not her. I'm the slut, I'm the whore, everyone knows that I'd fuck anything that moves anyway, so it'd be no big de—"

"SHUT UP!" Stan snapped, which instantly pushed Kenny into silence again. "I'm….I'm sorry. It didn't deserve to happen to anyone. No one, not you, not Karen, not anyone. It….no." He looked down, opening the door. "….You're here alone?" Stan asked, raising a eyebrow slowly, seeing no sign of Kenny's parents.

"Yeah. God knows where they are. Karen's room's off the hallway to the right." Kenny said, as if all the emotion had been taken from his body. "…" He looked up at Karen, and then quickly looked down again, as if not able to physically look at his traumatized sister. "….I'm….I'm sorry." That was all he said, and Stan winced, as if in pain – although it was obvious that it was a harsh situation.

"…I'm sure she forgives ya, Kenny. It wasn't your fault."

"I wasn't there to protect her." Kenny snapped. "If I was, she'd be—"

"She'd be worried for your safety."

"Fuck my safety."

"Kenny—stop it. Karen loves you, and it wasn't your fault. Look, there was nothing any one of us could do to help it. I fuckin' well know that I would have saved Karen if I could've, and so would have Kyle, or Butters, or, hell, even Cartman. All of us care about Karen and you, dude. So stop acting like we don't, or like she doesn't, or like you're some big abomination to the world. You're not. You're Kenny McCormick, and you're one of my friends, and I'll be damned if I'll let you keep hurting yourself like that." Stan frowned, looking into Kenny's eyes.

"…I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Just realize that it was no one's fault but the person who did it—the person we're gonna track down and kick the ass of."

"…Do you think it was that Organization?"

"Maybe….god, I hope not." Stan sighed. "I….I don't know if we can face them this early, and on top of that, best backup defense force we have is Butters, and he's not exactly a trooper….but we'll worry about that tomorrow, eh?"

"….Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Could ya stay here tonight? I have a feeling my folks won't be back, and I can't…..I can't cope with this alone." Kenny looked down, and then looked into Stan's eyes, giving off a look to show that he was supremely broken inside.

"….As long as ya want, dude." Stan sat next to Kenny, who curled up on the ground, nodding slowly.


End file.
